Infinite Pinwheels
by Ever-changing Creation
Summary: Reincarnation would be infinitely easier…If he wasn't one of the largest villains in the universe he'd been reborn into. Now, all Madara has is his future knowledge, and stupid pinwheel eyes. Oh, and genetic insanity from his bloodline. Wonderful. (Male Self Insert as Madara Uchiha, slow build).
1. Prologue: Madara Uchiha

Another SI fic, but this time, inserting myself into Madara Uchiha. Yes, he's a ridiculously hax character, but I have my reasons.

Honestly, I just want to see how a somewhat **well adjusted** Uchiha genius deals with his clan. Madara has potential to **not** be a huge, psychopathic asshole—he helped stop war between clans and formed Konohagakure, after all. Uchiha bullshit and the 'Curse of Hatred' always seem to have other plans, though.

Besides, taking someone with modern views of the world, and plopping them into a time and place that's very traditional and conservative is…interesting. A huge mess, even. Which is all the more fun to write.

* * *

Prologue: Madara Uchiha

* * *

The day Tajima Uchiha's first son was born, was one deep into winter.

The winter solstice has long passed. By the dates of the Modern Calendar the daimyos favored, it is the twenty-fourth of December. Just a week from the New Year to start.

The day is one of the coldest of the year. The chill penetrates even the thickest layers of cured furs, seeping into the very bones of man. Snow—a rare occurrence, in these lands of Fire—blankets all roofs of the Uchiha Clan's compound. Not an inch of land is not covered in the condensed frozen-water, giving a sense of calmness and purity in the dirty soils of blood and war.

It is as silent as death, outside of his bedroom chambers, with the stillness brought by the icy breath of the Shinigami. In deep contrast, the room is filled with shrieking and wails, both from his wife, and the child she has birthed.

The midwife gives an appreciative hum, laying the babe upon her arm, patting its back. The young one coughs, before giving an even louder wail. The babe is then draped in a warm blanket of wolf furs, and quiets instantly.

"It is a boy, Tajima-sama," the old woman says, giving the Clan Head a toothy smile. "A very healthy one, at that. His chakra is strong and wise, even for a newborn."

"Thank the Sage," the man murmurs in relief, bowing his head slightly in reverence to give a quick prayer. When the man finishes, he reaches out, taking Fumiko's dainty, chilled hand in his. "You have done well, my wife."

Quickly, the midwife's assistants rush to robe and clean the new mother, who is shivering from cold and fatigue of childbirth. The Clan Head manages to open his arms in time for the wizened midwife to drop his first son in his grasp.

"What will you name him, Tajima-sama?" the old woman asks, meticulously rifling through her healer's bag for a scroll and inkwell. No doubt, to make the certificate of birth, for the boy.

The dark-haired man pauses, contemplating, staring down at his first child. The fur blanket shifts, showing a small section of the babe's upper chest, blotchy and red.

Along the bottom of the babe's collarbone are a smattering of lunar marks. The rest of his son's body does not seem to have these markings, Tajima muses, shifting the blanket slightly open to take in his child's small form, in full.

The only spots are along the child's collarbone…Spots…

The man's lips curl up slightly. He has just the perfect name for his precious first son.

He rocks the quiet babe in his arms, pivoting carefully to face the snow-haired midwife. An amused smile is still twitching across his lips, with a rare, impish twinkle is in his dark orbs.

"Madara," he states. "His name will be Madara Uchiha."

It is at that point, that a cry comes from the young one, deep within the warm confines of Tajima's arms. It is then, that the Uchiha Clan Head gave a deep, warm laugh.

"Madara Uchiha…What a fine name."

* * *

 _The newborn baby wails in that moment, because he is much more aware than a regular babe. In fact, he used to not be a baby, but a young man, who had died and found himself with a new life._

 _He wails, because he recognizes the name bestowed upon him._

 _A name of one of the largest villains in a fictional series, from his old life and world._

 _Oh, how he_ _ **despises**_ _that man, that character, that_ _ **name**_ _._

 _But now…Now, that's his name. That's his very_ _ **existence**_ _._

 _No good could come from this…The entire clan held the Curse of Hatred, insanity ran rampant, and a slow death all but guaranteed._

 _Why had he been reborn as_ _ **that**_ _man, though…?Any other would have been fine. Any other Uchiha, even._

 _But, no…No, he was now…_

 _Madara Uchiha._

* * *

"Madara Uchiha? A splendid name, for your first heir."

"He is a very strong, healthy babe, Tajima-sama."

"How well-behaved, as well!"

Tajima Uchiha stands proudly in the living room, next to the seat holding his wife and newborn child.

Fumiko has gained color, after the strain of the birth. She is smiling beatifically, passing the babe to the other clucking mothers, letting them coo over the boy.

After a few minutes, however, the babe thrashes and whines, and is transferred to the tender arms of his mother. Once ensconced in the folds of her yukata, the babe instantly pacifies, and his wife coos.

"He will be a fine son," one of the elders notes, causing Tajima and his wife to beam proudly. When it comes to the wise—if somewhat crotchety—elders of the Uchiha Clan, such a statement is of the highest caliber.

Yes…Madara is a fine son. He rarely makes a fuss, and seems to attach to both Tajima and his wife like a little leech. He has a strong grip for a mere babe, as well.

His wife is over the moon with the child. Madara is their first, after all.

Despite tradition, the soft woman is very insistent on caring for the babe after the first few weeks, instead of allowing the servants to do all the work. It makes a few of the older mothers cluck in disapproval. " _What is the use of being the Clan Head's wife, if you do not use your power and servants to rear your heirs?_ " they titter behind their hands, in low voices.

Tajima feels a similar way, for that is how he was taught, and he himself raised. However, he does not voice it. Not aloud to any of his clan members, nor to his precious flower of a wife.

"I simply want to be a good mother, my dear husband," she tells him in private, head ducked low and demurely, as is her place. "I would very much like to be the one to proudly say, ' _Yes, this is my first son, and I was the one to have raised him, this fine heir and warrior_ '."

Tajima merely hums, after a few moments of silence, during which the woman fusses over the babe. "I suppose I may allow this, wife. It is a woman's job to bear and raise children."

He does not voice that **proper** , noble women do not sully themselves, by lowering themselves to do said child rearing…Then again, if one wants a job done right, one must accomplish it themselves.

Let the woman raise the babe. She will be more of worth, if she does something worthwhile. Merely allowing her to laze about and constantly have tea would be…A waste.

He tells himself this, even though he himself knows he is giving his permission, because he is very fond of his kind wife. It is a weakness, born from the euphoria of being a new father.

He will ignore it. For now.

"Oh, my dear husband…!" Fumiko exclaims happily, hand daintily covering her mouth. She bows lowly. "Thank you very much!"

Tajima merely gives a flick of his wrist. "Do not speak of this, wife."

He watches the petite woman bustle about in a flurry, picking up the babe of near three months, bringing the child to her chest.

Instantly, the babe snuggles into the folds of her fine clothing, clinging to the woman and gurgling. A wide, toothless smile is upon the young one's face, as the woman coos to him.

"My precious Madara…Your mother is here for you, my dear first son," she murmurs, voice full of love and adoration.

For a moment, Tajima feels the distinct need to near them, and hold the babe. However, the moment is fleeting, and he forces the feeling down into the pit of his stomach.

"I love you, my sweet little one," his wife chimes, bouncing the boy within her grasp, causing the babe to let out a small noise of happiness. She turns, so that Tajima is within the babe's line of sight. "And your father does as well."

The babe innocently stares up at the tall, imposing man. Then, the young one stretches out his tiny arms to his father, in a motion to be held.

Tajima will not admit it, but he all but melts, and acquiesces quite easily to the request.

The Head of the Uchiha Clan walks forwards, gently taking his firstborn son within his grasp, gently bouncing the boy in his arms. Madara gives out a melodious giggle, and Tajima allows his face to fall into a small smile, full of fondness.

This feeling he feels…The feeling deep within his chest, the feeling that causes butterflies to flutter in his stomach…

He cannot fully fathom why, but Tajima perceives it to be something similar to 'love'.

* * *

 _The young man doesn't fully know why—or how— it has taken so damn_ _ **quickly**_ _to accustom to his new circumstances._

 _He used to be a young man, going to college. Now, he is a baby._

 _A baby who is a main antagonist in a fictional universe of ninjas._

 _Madara Uchiha…_

 _But he doesn't_ _ **feel**_ _like Madara Uchiha. The young man isn't even sure what that would even feel like, but he digresses._

 _He just doesn't feel…Natural. Or even particularly evil. Not even mildly psychopathic._

 _All he knows is the warmth and love of the darling woman who is his mother, Fumiko Uchiha. And the fondness behind raised ice walls, from the man who is his father, Tajima Uchiha._

 _Thrust in such a shocking situation, the young man clings to the mother of this new life—literally._

 _He thinks that, perhaps, such is natural for most babies. To cling to their mothers, to their warmth and familiarity._

 _He doesn't really care. About that, or about losing some of his dignity—even if he was an adult in mind, and this was just really damn embarrassing overall._

 _He only cares about his new body's parents, and their love. Their safety. Their comfort._

 _The reincarnated young man doesn't like being separated from either Tajima or Fumiko for very long. He is a very calm, quiet baby, overall. Doesn't make a fuss, unless he is very very hungry, or very very soiled._

 _He_ _ **does**_ _pitch a hissy fit, though, whenever he is parted from either parent for too long. Isn't that big of a fan of all those family members that hover over him and coo annoyingly, either. But taking him away from the woman that's his second mother is the greater evil._

 _The young man is actually somewhat glad that Fumiko actually, well,_ _ **mothers**_ _him. God knows she had enough servants around that would do the job for her, being the Clan Head's wife. But despite all her softness and pacifism, she holds firm that she wants to take care of him._

 _It's something the reincarnated soul is very grateful for. A very caring mother is something he had in his previous life, and even when being thrown into this utter_ _ **fuckup**_ _of a new life…at least that stays the same._

 _Yes, the breastfeeding is rather mortifying, but he isn't sure that formula has even been invented yet, so…It will have to do. Can't have himself starve to death, just because he was picky._

 _Fumiko is a wonderful woman, notwithstanding._

 _And each time he is within Fumiko's arms…Each time Tajima watches him, or picks him up…_

 _Well, the reincarnated soul tentatively feels happy. Loved._

 _Maybe…Maybe, with the love and support of his parents…Maybe this life would not be such an utter catastrophe._

 _The hope is incredibly fragile, but…No one would blame him if he tries, right…?_

 _He can feel happy and loved enough to smile, to laugh, to hug and feel warm with his parents._

 _But then…This won't last long. He knows this._

 _The young man had to prepare himself. Learn Japanese, relearn how to speak, how to stand up and walk and read and write._

 _He has already started making advancements, but it won't be enough. He needs to be diligent, during the short times he is awake._

 _He needs to prepare himself for what's to come…_

 _Even if he loathes to remember, loathes to even_ _ **think**_ _it…_

 _He needs to be ready for what comes ahead. Because he's Madara Uchiha._

* * *

"Madara Uchiha!"

The babe of six months jolts, tumbling down onto his bottom. He had previously been toddling casually around in his crib, showing an ease that Tajima had not known the boy possessed.

"My dear son—did you just **walk**?" the man exclaims, rushing forwards to pick the babe up, within his armored arms. He ignores the fact that he had returned fresh from a mission, covered in dirt, grime, sweat, and blood.

The babe stares up at his father, stock-still, as if paralyzed. Slowly—as if wary—the babe nods his head.

The babe gives his father a second shock in two minutes, when he opens his mouth and speaks proper words, instead of nonsensical babbles.

"Hai, Otou-sama," Madara says, enunciating the syllables slowly.

Tajima almost drops his first son then and there, from pure shock.

The man's mouth hangs open, like a fish. He tries to speak, but his mouth is suddenly very dry.

"Madara, did you just—did you just **speak**?" Tajima finally asks after a few seconds, voice strained, in utter disbelief.

The young one cocks his head to the side, an oddly contemplative look on his chubby little face, a face of cherubic softness that all babes seem to possess.

"Hai, Otou-sama," the babe re-iterates. Once more, it is properly enunciated, but there is an undercurrent of some shrouded emotion that the father cannot properly decipher. It was akin to… a combination of resignation, anger, and self-loathing.

The man does not dwell on it further. Such complicated emotions should not be present within a young babe. Thusly, he must be seeing things. Projecting the maturity of his own men, within his young boy.

Tajima beams down softly at his son, excitement and fondness thrumming through his battered veins.

His son's first words were of full and utter respect for him. _Father_. Already showing deference, already showing the status of his position.

It is the best gift Tajima has received, after coming from a mission. Not even slaying the Senju and gaining an award from the daimyo could compare.

"We must inform the clan of these developments, Madara. I am sure your mother will be very much overjoyed," he says, turning to leave the nursery, his son firmly within his grip. "I am very…pleased."

* * *

 _The young-man-turned-baby is_ _ **not**_ _very happy._

 _He had been careful, before. Careful in honing his motor functions, in turning babbles into words, in learning the language that would now be his mother tongue._

 _He had taken it slow. Only did anything impressive, when no one was around to see or hear him. Mostly, he took to wobbling around his crib with his stupid noodle legs, when even the servants and Fumiko would be too busy to come and see him, in the dead of the night._

 _And then he slipped up. Walked along the crib, at a time when his father decided to drop by and visit. Tajima Uchiha was a busy man, and honestly, he hadn't expected the man to visit much at all._

 _But Tajima saw what he could now do._

 _And really, there was now no hope in hiding. So he thought, 'fuck it', and decided to say his first words as well._

 _Madara Uchiha, from his knowledge, had been known to be a genius, apparent from even a young age. So it was just something that was going to happen, anyways._

 _…The young man honestly hopes that this is the only coincidence, the only similar stretch that Fate will make him walk._


	2. Learning, Love, and Little Brothers

Thank you all for your support on this little side-project. This story will be a slow burn, so things may take time. But I hope to make each chapter have at least have one large and/or important event happen when it comes to his life.

Reply to _aibeloved_ : Madara did lose a lot of himself through the years. It started with him being jealous of Hashirama leading the Leaf Village. Things just seemed to spiral down from there. And, yes-he was one of the biggest villains of the series, so he was one of the situations that helped turn Naruto into a hero.

* * *

Learning, Love, and Little Brothers

* * *

 _The reincarnated young man blows caution out the window. He decides to show all his skills whilst he can, so he can advance quicker, be smarter, gain more skills and information._

 _He does this, because he wants to_ _ **survive**_ _._

 _This is the Warring States Era. Clans pitted against clans. Senju against Uchiha. Children against adults, against children._

 _If he can't be strong, he'll_ _ **die**_ _. Just like the rest of the corpses of the child soldiers employed by not just his clan, but of others as well._

 _He should probably do the world a favor and die while he can, but he is a coward. He doesn't want to waste this second life, or his knowledge._

 _He wants to protect people. Use his knowledge for_ _ **good**_ _. Create himself to be as far away as the endgame canon visage of Madara Uchiha as possible._

 _So, he plays the game. Becomes the prodigious mini-adult his clan and father needs. Lets Tajima teach him the skills he'll need to survive, out in this world full of bloodshed._

* * *

Tajima Uchiha is proud to announce to all clan members that he crosses paths with, that Madara is already showing signs of being a genius.

Little Madara is usually stone-faced, amongst the attention of others. He is an eerily serious child. He rarely laughs, or plays. Every action is with a purpose. He also often projects a cold fury whenever his name is uttered.

Ever since Tajima had caught the boy walking in his crib, his son has been progressing at an astounding rate. By his first birthday celebration, Madara can walk, run, desecrate on his own, speak in short sentences, eat his food in a semi-proper manner, and has already started to read.

Fumiko worries over her first child. Worries over how the boy is no child, but an adult in miniature. The Clan Head, in complete contrast, is proud of his son for being so prodigious.

It is much easier to deal with the boy, if he is so intelligent. It will be no trouble to teach the boy of the way of the shinobi. Madara will be the strongest, the smartest, and the most well prepared child in the entire Uchiha Clan.

Madara has exceeded all expectations of being his first son, and the next in line for Head of the Uchiha. It is as if the Sage of Six Paths has blessed the Uchiha Clan with the boy, to bring them into a new era of Shinobi.

There is no doubt within Tajima's mind, that Madara will grow to become a strong ninja. Strong enough to beat the Senju, most certainly.

Madara is the hope of the Uchiha Clan, and it is rather plain to see. However, Tajima does not stop releasing his seed within his wife, in order to have more heirs.

He wants to have more sons, just in case. In case Madara falls in a battle of glory, becoming a hero and martyr, in order to slay their enemies, and elevate the Uchiha to their proper status as being the strongest shinobi in the lands. For the off chance that Madara needs a brother to help him lead the Clan.

After all, Tajima himself was the second son of the Clan Head of the last generation. His elder brother had died in a grand battle against the Senju, centuries ago. As his brothers died in battle, it was he who took the helm as a leader, and the next Uchiha Clan Head.

And he had learned. Listened and learned, and rose up to became their next leader.

Madara will no doubt do the same.

* * *

 _The young man listens and learns. He has learned to read—and what as glorious thing it is, to read. So much of the world opens, with this ability. So much information, so many skills._

 _He's always been a fan of reading. In this world, it'll probably be one of his comforts._

 _The reincarnated soul listens and understands what the adults say around him, what they speak of him. How his father is already considering on teaching him the way of the shinobi._

 _You know, despite him barely being a year old._

 _But, well…He asked for this. By showing how intelligent he really is. He wanted to gain the skills to be stronger._

 _…He hopes he won't regret this decision._

* * *

Tajima does not regret his decision of gaining another son. Fumiko becomes pregnant, not long after Madara's birthday celebration. Eight months later, during Autumn, their second son is born. He is named Byakuya.

As his wife and the servants care for his second child, Tajima is out teaching young Madara meditation, stretching techniques, basic katas, and history of the Head Family.

It does not matter if Madara has not even turned two years old, and his stubby, pudgy limbs are awkward and incapable of doing the katas properly. The toddler is very patient, and a good student. The boy soaks up information like a sponge.

When not training, reading, or in lessons, Madara is with his mother. The woman has turned tired and a bit on the frail side, from having two children one year after the other, and often stays within the home.

Madara's care, despite his youth, shows his respect for the woman who birthed him. The toddler caters to petite Fumiko, and entertains his younger brother. The wet nurse and servants coo over the First Son being so caring, so thoughtful.

When he can spare a wayward thought, Tajima hopes that the boy is not going soft. There is a fine line between being respectfully helpful, and emotional frailty. The boy may very well catch his wife's soft maternal instincts—and what then? The boy will not be as strong a warrior, if he is so caring.

Without strength, you can die, in this world of bloodshed.

Tajima takes his mounting frustration off on his wife, making rough love to her. He is getting paranoid over his sons, over their youth and softness, and wants to have more.

One could never be too careful. Especially not when the Senju are decimating large numbers of Uchiha, and the Clan can barely keep up.

His children will be fine shinobi—the finest of the lands—if he can help it.

* * *

 _Just because he's learning the skills of a shinobi—learning and preparing himself to kill in the future—doesn't mean that the reincarnated young man throws away his previous humanity or morality._

 _He was always rather soft, in his past life. He was not a fighter, didn't like conflict, abhorred pain in both himself and others._

 _He_ _ **cared**_ _._

 _Caring was dangerous, but just something ingrained into his very_ _ **soul**_ _. He couldn't help himself, when he entered his mother's bedchambers, doting and watching over her and his little brother, Byakuya._

 _He was going to do things his own way, create his own path. And no one could stop him._

* * *

Fumiko Uchiha could not stop smiling.

Despite her strength slowing ebbing, after each subsequent child she has birthed…Despite being too frail to do much else, but stay within her bedchambers or the nursery, to look over her little ones…

She is happy. For her husband has given her permission to care for her children, has allowed her to stay within the home when she is too tired to leave.

The young woman feels that she is truly blessed. She was betrothed and married to a man who was not much older than her, who became the Head of the Uchiha Clan. Her first son is strong, yet caring. She has a precious second son, and a third child is on the way.

All things told, Fumiko has been lucky.

And **that** is the reason she keeps smiling.

"You are such a good older brother, my boy," she coos to her eldest son, who sits next to her on the elongated seating of the small couch. The toddler has his baby brother carefully held in his arms, tickling Byakuya to make him giggle, an amused grin in place.

Madara is very forthcoming with his smiles, when with her or little Byakuya. His eyes crinkle, alighted with a deep love and tenderness that Fumiko is glad to see within the dark depths.

The young boy is usually so polite and blank-faced to others—like an adult in miniature—that it worries her. However, when in private and with his family, he allows his true emotions to bloom.

The petite woman finds it beautiful. She has hope that her eldest will not be like the rest of the clan: that he will have compassion and love, and yet still hold strong.

"Thank you, Kaa-chan," Madara says, turning his face to her, so he can give her a smile. Others may find the title to be disrespectful, but Fumiko knows that her son only uses ' _kaa-chan_ ' when in private with her. When he can show his affection clearly and without restraint.

Besides... She would honestly take ' _kaa-chan_ ' over ' _okaa-sama_ ' from her eldest, any day. The day he stops calling her the more familiar term in private…Will be the day she knows she has lost her little boy's kind nature.

And she **never** wants Madara to lose his kind nature.

It may very well be the only thing any of her children may inherit from her.

Fumiko unconsciously lets her hand linger over the small bump of her stomach. She rubs it slightly, a fond twitch on her lips.

"Ma-kun…" she starts, and instantly, her eldest looks over to her.

"Yes, Kaa-chan?" the two-year-old asks, flashing her a toothy grin.

The petite woman cannot help but give a small chuckle. Madara has never liked his name, always making a fuss and grimacing whenever it is used. He has asked her one day, to give him a nickname—something different " _that was not Madara_ ".

Ever since she has used 'Ma-kun' for him, he has been…happier.

"Ma-kun," she reiterates. "If you could have another sibling…Would you want a little brother, or a little sister?"

The woman does not know why she is asking this of her eldest. Perhaps to fulfill a simple curiosity of hers. Perhaps to gain his opinion.

Madara hums in contemplation, gently rocking Byakuya in his arms, before answering.

"An _imouto_ ," he states confidently. Fumiko pauses, blinking wide-eyed at the genius boy.

"And why…Would you like a little sister?" the mother asks, curiosity and shock vying for being the main emotion she is feeling.

"Kaa-chan's nice and pretty…So imouto will be nice and pretty, too," the boy says in a low voice, leaning towards her, as if divulging a grand secret.

His eyes are wide and twinkling, and the frail woman feels warmth flood her body, from the utter sincerity and conviction her eldest shows.

Does he…Truly think that highly of her?

How…odd. One would think Madara would be closer to his father…Isn't that typical of boys, especially first-born sons?

The mother feels the telltale pinpricks of tears behind her eyes, as she gives her eldest child a watery smile.

"You are too kind, my wonderful son," she tells the boy, voice thick with emotion. She brings her two children into an embrace, careful with little Byakuya being held between them.

Madara snuggles his face into her embrace, giving a happy sigh. "I love you, Kaa-chan."

"And I love you as well. I love you so, so much," the woman chokes out, tears slowly spilling down her cheeks, as she gives a relieved smile. "I am so lucky to have such wonderful sons…"

"No, **I'm** lucky," the toddler insists, pulling back slightly to stare up at her face. His pouts morphs into a sad smile, as he brings his pudgy hands up to her wet cheek. With soft, deliberate movements, her eldest wipes away her tears.

"Please don't cry," he says, slightly lifting up his baby brother. " _Otouto_ could cry."

Fumiko coos, gently taking Byakuya from Madara's arms. "Of course. And we don't want that, now, do we?"

Her eldest firmly shakes his head, before he suddenly turns to stare at the door. The little one gracefully hops off the couch. "I have to go, Kaa-chan. Sorry."

The woman does not have time to answer, for one of Madara's many tutors takes that moment to open the door to the nursery. "Forgive me for any interruptions, Honorable Wife. However, it is time for the Honorable Son's lessons in tracking."

"It is quite alright," the wife says serenely, before leaning over to give a peck upon the toddler's brow. "Good luck, my son."

"Thank you," Madara says politely, shooting her a small smile, full of affection and crinkled eyes.

When he leaves the room, Fumiko lets out a slight sigh.

Yes, she is very fortunate indeed, for having such a wonderful son as her eldest. She doesn't have to be concerned at all, when it comes to him.

* * *

 _The young man starts to feel concerned._

 _Fumiko Uchiha has rarely left the house. The petite woman is still recovering from having Byakuya._

 _And yet…She is pregnant again._

 _It's worrying._

 _Fumiko, to him, is ridiculously young to have so many children. If he's done the calculations correctly…Tajima was 22 when Not-Madara was reborn. Fumiko was 17._

 _Yes, it's seemingly a tradition for men to have a wife that is younger than them, for this time and place. But a young woman who was barely a teenager, to get pregnant and 16 and giving birth at 17, with a husband who's four years older than them…?_

 _For a woman to have a child literally every year, one after the other…To just shunt the females off as baby-makers…?_

 _It's wrong._

 _The young man tries to not show his negativity to the mother of this life. He doesn't want to make her feel_ _ **worse**_ _._

 _So, he worries. He worries, and he visits, and he hovers. The majority of his free time goes to being with his mother and little brother, to look over them._

 _Being with them…Well, it makes him feel…better. Calmer._

 _Free._

 _The only people he can really show the full extent of his adoration is his baby brother, and his kind mother._

 _He is part of a clan that prides themselves in strength and coldness and blank faces. He can't show true happiness or empathy to other clan members—not when they expect him to be the perfect little genius prodigy, first son of Tajima Uchiha, heir of the Uchiha Clan._

 _In the Uchiha Clan, children are quickly taught to hide their emotions, to work to perfection, to become the pinnacle of shinobi. Not-Madara doesn't need training to show impassiveness and a blank mask, and so no one tries to forcefully stamp out emotion from an already prodigious, cold child._

 _Which leaves him room to show his true feelings, to his mother and brother._

 _They haven't taken his inner softness and emotional stability from him yet, and so he can show joy, love, fondness, happiness—all those positive emotions, to the people he holds dear._

 _But…Just because others haven't tried to squash his emotions_ _ **yet**_ _, doesn't mean they won't. There will come a time, where his Clan will believe he should never bear fondness in his eyes, or a smile on his lips._

 _He hopes…He hopes that won't come any time soon._

 _He hopes that his father, Tajima, will allow him a little more time to show love to his family._

 _There may not be much time left, for his mother. For his brothers. For even the man himself._

 _…The reincarnated soul hopes that his father realizes that death may well fall upon their family, in the near future._

* * *

"Otou-sama…Okaa-sama will be having another baby, yes?" Madara asks, breaking the sublime silence of the morning.

Tajima and his first son are going through basic katas in the Head Family private training ground, hidden away in the backyard of their home. It is six hundred hours in the morning, and the two have been training since dawn broke across the horizon, shining its soft light upon the world.

"Correct," the man confirms, winding down from the third kata. He gives a searching look to the toddler—nay, the boy is nearing three. He will not be a toddler for much longer, but a boy. "You are very perceptive, Madara."

The boy's face, as always, instantly scrunches up in disgust at his given name. Tajima watches as the boy must fight to return his face into blankness.

"Thank you, Otou-sama," was the boy's reply. "However, I have…A concern."

"Is it a concern, of you being replaced?" the father asks, watching his son's face carefully. That would be the logical concern and feelings, for a young child, when their territory is encroached.

"No, Otou-sama," Madara says respectfully, his brows furrowing. "It is…Over Okaa-sama. The constant stress of childbirth is not good for her health. She is very frail."

"Women are frail, son. That should be no cause of concern," the man snorts, flippantly flicking his wrist.

What a waste of time. Is his first son truly getting that…emotional?

Perhaps frailty is a contagious sickness. He must bar Madara from seeing his mother, in case it interferes more with the boy's skills and training. If the problem is not nipped at the bud, it could grow into a detrimental problem.

The Clan Head starts up into the next kata, full of fluid motions, knowing his son will follow and drop the nonsense trail of thought. However, when he looks over to Madara, the boy is not going through the motions.

Rather, Madara has his feet planted stubbornly on the ground, arms crossed, glaring acidly at his father.

"She is your **wife** ," the boy hisses. "And she could very well **die** in childbirth…! How could you say that it should not be a cause of concern?!"

Tajima shifts from his prior stance, to loom over his first son. Rage is rushing through his veins, icy cold and as hot as fire, all at once.

"How **dare** you speak to me in that way…! I raised you better than this—than going against my word, and worrying over inconsequential things, like a weakling," he hisses. "Such is not the way of the Uchiha—not the way of any heir of mine!"

He thought he taught the boy better-taught Madara to be **strong** , not to…

The boy lifts his chin stubbornly, standing his ground, even though fine tremors are going through his small body. "If I cannot care over the health of my own mother, then why should I care over the health of any other clan member? The health of our shinobi? My own **brothers**?"

"Should a Clan Head not worry over such things…? Worry over the slaughter of their people, of the Clan, to the hands of others?"

The clearing is silent. Only the chirp of birdcall in the distance is heard, amongst the tense atmosphere.

Next, there is a loud ' _crack!_ ', as Tajima slaps his son without hesitation.

Madara is sent flying four feet away from the force of the blow, hitting the ground hard. The boy skids, the points of contact glowing a light blue, as he tries to lower the damage with chakra control.

With a quivering in his legs, the young one stumbles to his feet. His arms and legs have long, bloody scrapes, from the impromptu attack.

Madara glares up at his father. His eyes are full of loathing, but also betrayal. Hurt.

Tajima is unyielding, like stone, as he stares down at his first child. His face is stern, all other emotion gone.

This boy…He does not know of bloodshed or war, yet. He is naïve, no matter how prodigious his intellect and skills are.

He doesn't understand the looming and all-too-real dangers of the Senju, of the war. He does not understand the pressure of being Clan Head, of having to always be one step ahead, of having to make sacrifices in order to ensure the greater good of the Clan.

Madara, despite his genius, does not understand the way of the world, like his father. And so, Tajima must put him in place. Must show that he is not just a father, but a warrior and the Head of the entire Clan, as well.

Tajima Uchiha must show his son the reality of things, even if it is much sooner than he had initially wanted.

"I am barring you from seeing your mother. I should have never allowed so in the first place. Her influence is making you soft, and it is interfering with your training," the Clan Head states coldly. He watches with grim satisfaction, as his son's face morphs into one of pure disbelief, intermingled with horror.

"I will double your training, so you will not get the idea to disobey me, and slip in to see her in your free time," the man goes on. "I will **make** you strong, Madara. There is no room for kindness, in a shinobi. Not when the clans are at war, and will never cease."

Madara sneers, baring his teeth up at the man, but does not speak. A burning fire of rebellion and stubbornness is within his dark eyes, however. They speak a message, loud and clear for Tajima to see. It is this: _You are_ _ **wrong**_ _. And I will_ _ **never**_ _follow your beliefs._

The boy stomps off, fuming, to the opposite side of the training field. There, he stops, and starts doing sets of punches at the training posts.

Madara is being petulant, ignoring his father, doing a task that is not present in this part of the training routine. However, he is no doubt letting out his frustrations in a safer way with beating the tree stumps, instead of keeping up a fight with his father.

Tajima nods, appraising the aggressiveness and power of his son's punches. Feeling pleased at the blood being shed upon the wood, mounting with every dozen blows.

When the man leaves the training grounds, in order to let Madara work his frustrations out, he does not catch the bitter tears that pour down the boy's face.

It would have weakened Tajima's initial firm resolve, if he had. To see such a pitiful, heart-wrenching sight.

But alas—he did not.

* * *

 _The young man had decided to broach the subject over the mother of this second life, to Tajima Uchiha._

 _The rates of death by childbirth were very high in his previous life, full of modern technologies and conveniences. In a universe that did not have such things, a place where women are just bags of flesh that pop out more children, well…The rates would be_ _ **much**_ _higher._

 _He'd never lost a parent, before. And in his past life, he was very close with his own mother. The thought of Fumiko, the woman who brought him into this new lif,e actually_ _ **dying**_ _was…Terrifying._

 _But Tajima just decided to brush off his valid worries, and the young man wouldn't—_ _ **couldn't**_ _—put up with that._

 _When one marries, they should love and cherish their spouse. Protect them._

 _Even though he can logically understand why Tajima doesn't care about his wife dying when birthing another child, because of this age and the beliefs men hold… it doesn't make it right._

 _"She is your_ _ **wife**_ _," he hisses. "And she could very well_ _ **die**_ _in childbirth…! How could you say that it should not be a cause of concern?!"_

 _"How_ _ **dare**_ _you speak to me in that way…! I raised you better than this—than going against my word, and worrying over inconsequential things, like a weakling. Such is not the way of the Uchiha—not the way of any heir of mine!"_

 _And there it is. The reminder that he is an Uchiha, he is the heir, he is Madara Uchiha and_ _ **shouldn't care**_ _._

 _Well,_ _ **fuck**_ _that._

 _The young-man-in-a-boy's-body trembles, because he is furious, but also rather terrified of Tajima Uchiha. Right now, he just wants to either sit down and bawl his fucking eyes out, or scream until he is hoarse._

 _But he doesn't do either. Rather, he lifts his chin, stares defiantly into the eyes of this body's father, and stands up for what he believes in._

 _"If I cannot care over the health of my own mother, then why should I care over the health of any other clan member? The health of our shinobi? My own brothers?"_

 _Because his brothers_ _ **will**_ _die, if the conflict with the Senju does not stop. And the Uchiha Clan will all but die out, with Sasuke Uchiha in three or four generations being the Last Uchiha._

 _"Should a Clan Head not worry over such things…? Worry over the slaughter of their people, of the Clan, to the hands of others?" he goes on._

 _The young man_ _ **knows**_ _he is going against his father, which is something that a young child should not do, at this time. He knows he is implying and blaming and all but shitting on Tajima Uchiha's way of life, leadership, and pride._

 _But he knows that his mother could very well die, if he does not at least make an_ _ **effort**_ _to change her fate, to save her._

 _The clearing is dead silent for a few moments, before Tajima slaps him in the face._

 _The young man is sent flying, hitting the ground hard and skidding along the hard-packed earth._

 _It hurts—oh_ _ **God**_ _it hurts—but he still tries to pump chakra in his limbs on the points of contact, trying to use his control through the blinding pain. It's the only thing he can think of doing, in order to make sure his skin doesn't peal off and leave him with bags of meat for limbs._

 _The attack was not unexpected—he had expected a slap, or some other form of physical punishment—but the_ _ **strength**_ _and_ _ **damage**_ _it causes is what he didn't consider._

 _And so, it makes perfect sense that his face is bruising, and long, bloody scrapes are up and down his legs and arms._

 _But damn…_ _ **Damn**_ _did it hurt. Both physically and emotionally._

 _He's never been so violently hit before, by a parental figure._

 _His legs feel like jell-o, but he forces himself on his feet. Forces down the tears that build up and itch behind his eyes. He glares up at his father, loathing and hurt and too large a mix of emotions for him to shield them from Tajima's piercing gaze._

 _The man looks like he is built from stone. 'This is the Head of the Uchiha Clan,' the not-Madara thinks to himself._

 _It is…Intimidating._

 _"I am barring you from seeing your mother. I should have never allowed so in the first place. Her influence is making you soft, and it is interfering with your training."_

 _Not-Madara feels his heart leap and constrict in equal measures._

 _Is he…Is he_ _ **serious**_ _? The man is ordering his son from seeing his own damn mother…?_

 _"I will double your training, so you will not get the idea to disobey me, and slip in to see her in your free time. I will_ _ **make**_ _you strong, Madara. There is no room for kindness, in a shinobi. Not when the clans are at war, and will never cease."_

 _The young man sneers, baring his teeth. He cannot speak—he's barely keeping himself from quailing in front of the man, and doesn't think he'll be able to actually string together words without his voice cracking. Or him breaking down fully, altogether._

 _More training…More violence…More_ _ **hell**_ _._

 _And the only reprieve he had had, before, was being able to see his mother and little brother._

 _And now…Now, Tajima was fucking taking that_ _ **away**_ _from him._

 _This fool doesn't know the meaning of life, of living, of love and family. Not really._

 _Tajima is too blinded and entrenched in his old ways. He can't see peace… and really, doesn't deserve to be living to see it in his lifetime._

 _'You are_ _ **wrong**_ _,' the reincarnated soul thinks. 'And I will_ _ **never**_ _follow your beliefs. Because, believe it or not, peace_ _ **will**_ _come. I will be the one to make sure of it.'_

 _Kindness should not be punished. Hashirama Senju will be the kindest one of all, despite the circumstances of the Warring States Era, despite the ingrained hatred and death._

 _And he…He will bring peace, along with that man._

 _Not-Madara stomps off to the completely opposite side of the training field, as far from Tajima Uchiha as he can possibly get. He stops, doing a set of punches at the training posts, in order to help vent the rage that is coursing through his veins like a blazing inferno._

 _One, two, three…One dozen, two dozen, three dozen._

 _He slams his fists, painting the wooden targets a rusty red, with the blood from his very hands. He punches and punches, the burn of pain fueling his anger._

 _He can feel Tajima Uchiha leave the training grounds—_ _ **finally**_ _—after a few sets of punches._

 _Without the man's chakra signature and presence nearby, the fuel of his rage, his anger slowly diminishes. His eyes start to sting, his hands throb much too painfully for his liking, and his heart aches immensely._

 _He can't stem the tears. Everything hurts._

 _He's been betrayed by the damn man who helped bring him into this world, who_ _ **named**_ _him—no matter how completely_ _ **loathsome**_ _said name was. A man who trained him, taught him, shed sweat and blood with him._

 _A man who…he'd thought loved him._

 _The tears are bitter. His strength falters. Eventually, he can't keep punching the damn target, and sobs big, heaving sobs, adding tears into the blood and sweat that have been absorbed into the wood._

 _The young man's legs collapse under him, and he crumples to the ground, grasping onto the hard-packed earth with bloody fingers, burying his face into a shoulder to muffle the sobs and screams that peal from his throat._


	3. Strength and Blessings

This chapter started to get long, at 7k words. I didn't even get through most of what I wanted, but I decided that making all the medical junk its own chapter would draw things out too much, in an already slow-paced story.

* * *

Strength and Blessings

* * *

 _He hates this._

 _Hates this life._

 _Hates this_ _ **pain**_ _._

 _…But he also loves things within his miserable existence._

 _And those precious things…That's what he'll have to fight for._

 _Madara Uchiha will have to fight for his right to be kind, to love, to peace, to_ _ **living**_ _, and seeing his loved ones live._

* * *

Madara has improved exponentially in his studies, when no longer able to see his mother and brother.

He is ruthless in spars against Tajima. He goes through each new kata with an intensity and force of a steel blade, seemingly knowing how to use and exploit weak spots.

It is as if something has finally unlocked itself, within the boy.

Strength. Drive. **Power**.

The Head of the Uchiha is certain that this will do Madara good, for it already has so many benefits for the boy.

Madara will gain the greatest power.

* * *

 _The young man slowly feels himself die inside._

 _It's all about fighting, now. Learning the best katas, the most accurate way to throw weapons, the skill of making rapid-fire decisions during a spar._

 _It is all about violence, and Ma-kun cannot_ _ **take**_ _it._

 _The very rare free time he has—almost nonexistent, since he rises with the sun, and sleeps when the moon is at its highest point—he uses to study medicine. Every snatch of five or ten minutes he has, he tries to use to its greatest extent._

 _He'd had a vague interest in medicine, in his past life. The one where he did not have to train to kill people._

 _In this world, medical knowledge is…Rather lacking. Some of the practices are horrendously backwards, unsanitary, and downright_ _ **moronic**_ _._

 _He studies medicine, anyways. All the scrolls and texts he can get his hands on._

 _Because no matter how barbaric and lacking the field is, right now…Medicine can be used to save lives, instead of taking them away. And that is the closest thing to the young man's previous ideology, from his past life, that is available for him to peruse._

 _Any material (anything seemingly accurate, that is) about anatomy is worth its weight in gold, for the reincarnated soul. Some things may not be very clear, that he comes across. But basic anatomy is paramount when it comes to healing._

 _It is also useful, when finding the weak points in the human body, that one can exploit during battle. Something he finds himself using against Tajima, during spars, ruthlessly going for the throat or the arteries._

 _However… it can also be useful to keep one from being injured, in battle. To help a comrade, out in the field._

 _And that pacifistic, nonlethal use—the softer, more humane, more_ _ **helpful**_ _side—is what he wants to always have. It's the reason he tries to study medicine._

 _Ma-kun wants to help and save others. Medicine, anatomy, iryo ninjutsu; it will all help him keep and practice his beliefs._

 _But for now…Now, he's just going to try his best to release his frustrations and animosity on Tajima, by trying his best to beat the shit out of the tight-assed man, during training._

 _The man ends up praising him for his power, his ruthlessness._

 _But that is not what the young man has. That is not who he is._

 _Yes, he is using power, born from anger. But it isn't a power that is going to consume him outside battle. It will_ _ **not**_ _manifest into the Curse of Hatred that is bred within the Uchiha Clan._

 _Because he… wants peace. Not power. Not hatred. Not power_ _ **born**_ _from hatred._

 _And that resolve will hopefully led him forwards, without clouded judgment._

 _…It'll most definitely be a long road. He isn't even three years old, yet._

 _God, help him._

* * *

Winter falls upon the Uchiha Clan, although it is a more mild type of chill that envelops the Uchiha, than from past years. The Head is pleased to note that his kinsmen use up less energy to create and maintain fires around the compound, and there is only a thin covering of the most delicate of ice, upon the grasses of Fire Country.

The twenty-fourth of December passes once more, as the New Year looms. Madara turns three years old.

Once again—like of his first, and his second— there is a celebration that is organized by the Clan. However, this specific one is much larger, now that Madara has officially transitioned from being a babe, to being a child.

Holy ashes are smeared upon the boy's forehead by the priest, making a single tomoe-patterned eye in the middle of his forehead. There is a prayer to the Rabbit Goddess, and the Sage of Six Paths, blessing the boy for surviving until this age.

Once a child leaves the frailty of being a babe, they are much safer from disease and death. It is one of the grand, most important times of a person's life. The following one would be when Madara becomes a man, leaving the threshold of childhood behind.

The celebration is grand, for it is for the heir of the Uchiha Clan. Lanterns with the Uchiha Clan symbol are strung up from the roofs and trees, glowing beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and reds. Stalls full of grilled foods, simple games, and alcohol are set up and opened for business. The Uchiha kin are befitted in kimono and yutakas, with a poise and elegance that befits their clan.

Civilians of neighboring villages come to celebrate as well, making merry and congratulating the boy. They bring in a buzz of liveliness in the streets, helping bolster the celebrations into something festival-like. Young peasant-children shriek and laugh, as they run from stall to stall, and their parents smile and titter.

Young Madara is accosted regularly with well-wishers, for his very special landmark in age. There are also congratulations to Tajima, for having such a good son. There are some for his wife, for being bloated with child.

The least receptive to the grand festivities is the boy who the festivities are for.

Madara does not want to play with the other children, nor does he want to speak with some of his well-wishers. Instead, he sits with his younger brother Byakuya, telling stories to the babe that are foreign and ridiculous.

Grandiose stories filled with honeyed words. Tales of war being nonexistent, world peace being attained. Of clans coming together peacefully, in order to make one village. Of the Moon turning into the Bunny Goddess herself. Of a boy chosen by fate to bring the world together.

They are preposterous. Childish dreams that will never come true.

After the festivities, Tajima drills Madara to the ground during training. Punishing the boy, for putting such impossible thoughts into the brain of the much more impressionable Byakuya.

There can never be peace. Shinobi live off of blood and battle, and that will be the reality of the world, until generations in the future. And the Gods and Goddesses will **never** grace this blood-soaked Earth with their divine presences.

* * *

 _The reincarnated soul was not very amused or enthusiastic with the grand celebrations over his third birthday._

 _It was not that he did not appreciate the sentiment—he wasn't_ _ **that**_ _bratty or ungrateful, thank you very much. A celebration for a child leaving the very tumultuous time of infancy would be important in this world, where child mortality rates were ungodly high._

 _In a world where factions tried to kill each other, as well as the elements and natural causes, it was a commodity for_ _ **any**_ _baby to live long enough to be at a 'stable' age. Why, some infants didn't even get a name until passing a certain threshold, because they were too sickly at birth, or the parents just didn't want to get attached to something that would die so soon on them._

 _No, the young man could understand the reasoning for_ _ **why**_ _the third birthday of this body was made into such a grand event. He would even allow the Clan to go through with their traditions with the Shinto Shrine ceremony, the holy ashes smeared on his brow to simulate a third 'all-seeing' eye from the (not-so-untrue) legends of the Sage of Six Paths, and the Rabbit Goddess._

 _Hell, he didn't even mind that the party encompassed even the civilians from nearby settlements. There weren't many things to celebrate or be grateful over, when every day was a war, every day held death. Let the poor saps live a little, and have some hope._

 _The thing that made Ma-kun not enjoy the entire debacle was more the fact that it was a celebration by the Uchiha, for the Uchiha._

 _And it just kept reminding the reincarnated young man that he_ _ **was**_ _an Uchiha. One of the most despicable of all: Madara Uchiha._

 _Despite the merriment and the overall happiness of his well-wishers, Ma-kun felt his face fixed in an almost permanent grimace when confronted with those persons. They would either call him 'Honorable First Son' or his accursed name._

 _Those two titles made his blood boil. He_ _ **hated**_ _being known as either. So, having an entire day where throngs of people kept on using it, congratulating him for surviving his_ _ **second**_ _life by the age of three during a time of bloodshed, was…It was…_

 _It was a whole new type of personal hell, for the young man._

 _'Is this my punishment, for the sins I will commit in the future, with my accursed name and identity…?' he thinks to himself. 'Is this some sort of karma?'_

 _To say that Ma-kun was moody during his party would be…A bit of an understatement. He was angsting, like a true Uchiha._

 _It would be ironically hilarious, if not for his circumstances._

 _He doesn't have the energy or fucks to give, to put up with this bullshit. He tries to be polite to most of his well-wishers—especially the poor civilians that don't know any better, and haven't even done anything to offend him (…much)._

 _But he eventually gets tired and annoyed, and starts to simply give them curt answers, or even ignore them altogether. A few mutter about 'Uchihas and their elitism', but since his actions are so_ _ **atypical**_ _of his Clan, many do not comment on it._

 _…It's sad that he has to hide behind the asshole-ishness of his Clan, when he doesn't even want to be like his clan. Ah, paradoxes…_

 _The young man gets a few invitations from children—mostly nice, smiley, naïve civilian kids—to play with them. Since, at the best of times, he doesn't know how to interact with children…Or act much like his physical age, nor even know how to 'connect' and sympathize with them…_

 _Well, he was very straightforward in turning them down, despite the overall kindness in their requests. 'Geniuses', 'reincarnated adult souls', and 'playing with young children' does_ _ **not**_ _mix._

 _He was an intellectual, extreme introvert that hated parties in his first life, and that most certainly transferred over to this second life._

 _The young man's entire birthday party was useless, essentially. But, it_ _ **did**_ _give him the opportunity and excuse to circumvent Tajima's previous orders and insane scheduling._

 _Essentially, Not-Madara had the entire day off, because of his birthday. And he abused the hell out of that fact, by using as much time as possible to stand next to his mother and check up on his younger brother.._

 _Who even_ _ **knows**_ _when'll be the next time he'll be able to spend time with his little brother or mother…? Not to mention, when he'll be able to spend more time with Byakuya that lasts more than, like, two minutes._

 _It's odd that the young man abhors children and interacting with them, but is perfectly content with doing so with his brother. Actually, he goes_ _ **out of his way**_ _to be able to see Byakuya._

 _It's probably a combination of Tajima barring him from seeing his mother and brother, and a soft fondness the young man has for siblings and babies. Baby siblings just make his inner mother hen come out even more strongly._

 _And so, Ma-kun contents himself with sitting down, baby Byakuya in his lap, in some far-off corner._

 _"Onii-chan…?" Byakuya mutters, looking up at him in confusion. Considering the boy is outfitted in a proper little yukata, and has his hair slicked back…Overall, the tyke looks incredibly adorable._

 _"Want me to tell you new stories, Otouto? It's been a while," he asks his sixteen-month-old brother. He gently jiggles his knee, causing the baby to give a giggle from the bouncing motion it produces._

 _Byakuya tilts his head slightly, before nodding. "'Kay. I like stories."_

 _"Smart, you are," Not-Madara says down at the boy in his lap, a slight smile on his face. "Hmmmm…"_

 _"Today, the lands are full of battles. Clans fight each other. They fight and fight, and it doesn't seem like it will end. That sounds familiar, doesn't it?"_

 _He pauses, as Byakuya nods his head regally. He bites down his grin, so that his little brother doesn't believe that he's being patronized. His little brother is rather adorable, when he tries to act grown-up._

 _"Well, one day, two clans stopped fighting. They were the most powerful clans of the land—"_

 _"Uchiha an' Senju?" Byakuya guesses, seeming intrigued._

 _"Yes. The Uchiha and Senju," he confirms patiently. "The Uchiha and Senju stopping fighting, and the other clans across the lands started to slowly stop fighting as well. The two strong clans came together, both of their leaders wanting to stop the bloodshed and the wars._

 _The leader of the Uchiha, and the leader of the Senju, decided to join their clans together. And together, they built a village—a village even larger than the lands of the daimyo, or the cities of the Capitols. It was a village of peace, and they invited many other clans of the Land of Fire to join them._

 _The clans stopped to listen. Many joined this grand village, full of both ninja clans and civilians. There came peace, and everyone in the village got along. Other Lands across the Elemental Nations saw how grand the village was, saw the peace it brought—and these other lands decided to make their own villages."_

 _"That's it…?" his younger brother demands, brows furrowed. "No fightin'?"_

 _"No, there was no fighting. The village made by the Uchiha and Senju held strong, and it was peaceful…for a time."_

 _The boy perked up, looking like he believed the story if it had complications. Byakuya was rather perceptive, for his age. Not to the level of being an outright genius, but he was rather realistic for a child._

 _"Despite the peace between the clans, villages started to hate each other. Wars broke out—between villages than just between clans. But it wasn't the villages' fault for the fighting. It was the Moon."_

 _"The Moon?" his brother chorused, wide-eyed and baffled._

 _"Yes, the Moon," Ma-kun said seriously. "The Moon had something inside it—it wasn't just a ball in the sky. Inside the Moon…was the Bunny Goddess!"_

 _"Ehhhhh?!" the tot exclaimed. "Really?!"_

 _"Really, really," he nodded seriously. "The Bunny Goddess is a Goddess, with a lot of power. She disappeared from the lands—but not because she died. It was because she was…sealed inside the Moon!"_

 _Cue dramatic gasp from little brother._

 _The reincarnated young man couldn't help but smirk, eyes twinkling in amusement. He was having the tyke all but eating from his hands, so enraptured with his spin on the future of this world._

 _Though, Byakuya would never know it. He'd just think it was a story his older brother thought up._

 _"The Bunny Goddess was stuck in the Moon for many, many years. All the time stuck in the Moon, she became madder and madder," the reincarnated soul went on, in low tones, to set the mood. "She was mad at all the people on Earth, who had been getting along…And so she used her Goddess powers to make them violent, so that they would fight each other again."_

 _When all the villages started to fight each other, an evil, evil man heard the Bunny Goddess speak from the Moon…He waged war on all the villages—all of them!—and then…That evil man took the crazy Bunny Goddess out of the Moon, by summoning her to Earth. After so many years, the Goddess was walking the Earth again, but she didn't bring good things."_

 _"How…?" the young one wondered, clutching onto his older brother's yukata, and shaking him._

 _"The evil man was very, very powerful…He killed many people, to bring the Bunny Goddess back to earth."_

 _Cue another dramatic gasp, from his little brother._

 _"But! Not all hope was lost!" he went on, noting the horror the little boy held, and wanting to abate it. "The villages came together against the evil man and the Bunny Goddess. They fought against the Goddess and the evil man. And when all hope was lost…A hero emerged!"_

 _"There had been a prophecy—a boy was fated to save the entire world. This boy never let anything get him down, and always tried to forgive everyone he came across. He had hair like sunshine, eyes like water, and a smile that turned all his enemies into friends._

 _This boy didn't know that the gods put this fate on his shoulders, didn't know he was supposed to save the world. But he stepped up when no one else could, still having the energy and will to fight his enemies. To protect his friends, his village, and the entire_ _ **world**_ _, he stepped forwards…using the power all his friends gave him, using his most powerful jutsu…_

 _The boy defeated the evil man and the Bunny Goddess. Defeated, the evil man turned to ashes, and the Bunny Goddess was purified. She cried, becoming good once more. The boy sealed the Goddess into the Moon, to watch over the world and protect it, instead of hurting it._

 _The boy with the sunshine hair became a hero. He saved the entire_ _ **world**_ _. After that, there was world peace, and no one fought each other ever again. All the villages, the clans, the civilians—everyone in the world…The End."_

 _"Wow…" Byakuya breathed, stars in his eyes._

 _"It would be a good future, wouldn't it?" Not-Madara mused, giving a self-deprecating chuckle. "The bad guy loses, the Goddess is good again, and there's peace across the lands…"_

 _It's something that will most likely happen in the future, if he doesn't change things…He's not sure if he should feel comforted by that, or not._

 _"Another, another!" Byakuya demands, shaking him vigorously, a pleading pout on his adorable baby face._

 _"No, that is quite enough of this…_ _ **ridiculousness**_ _," comes the familiar sneering voice, causing the birthday boy to tense._

 _"It is just a story, my dear husband…" comes Fumiko's soft voice, tentative._

 _Ma-kun turns to look at Tajima and his mother. The former has a disgusted twist of his lips, and the latter looks somewhat worried._

 _"Ah…Hello, Otou-sama, Okaa-sama," he says coolly, voice purposefully emotionless, his expression blank. He gracefully stands from his previously seated position, shifting his baby brother securely into his arms._

 _"Hello, Otou-sama, Okaa-sama," Byakuya says politely, seemingly trying to imitate his older brother, down to the exact inflection._

 _He'd consider it adorable, if there weren't so many damn things wrong with the action._

 _"What a preposterous story…" Tajima mutters, shaking his head. He looks over his shoulder, ordering the trailing nursemaid to take Byakuya from Not-Madara._

 _The reincarnated soul glares at the man venomously, but—after a few moments of hesitation—he hands his little brother over to the woman._

 _"Come, boy," the Head of the Uchiha Clan starts, stepping forwards and gripping his eldest son's shoulder. "You have been hiding long enough. There are some very important men that would like to congratulate you. You will be polite to them, and be very interested in what they say—is that understood?"_

 _The man's voice is gruff, with an edge of steel. The young man frowns, but gives a curt nod._

 _Tajima looks over to the nursemaid and Fumiko. "Do not strain yourselves. Go—enjoy the festivities. Madara and I will be off for a long while."_

 _The stern man lightly pats his second son on the head, lightly places his hand on his wife's stomach for but a moment, and then nods at them before steering Ma-kun away._

 _Standing and listening to those 'important men' was very tedious. They were high-class merchants and nobles, people he didn't have any interest in. People he had nothing in common with._

 _All he did was thank them politely, nod, and pretend to listen and watch them attentively. They praised Tajima for such a prodigious first son, commented on how great the festivities were, yadda yadda yadda._

 _The only parts that were of note, was whenever there was a mention of other clans. One idly commented that the Head of the Senju had a son around his age. They didn't mention names, but the young man knew who they were referring to._

 _Hashirama._

 _Tajima did not allow Not-Madara from his sights. Because apparently, he did not have the right to enjoy his own damned birthday party._

 _Tired from the situation and the heaping amount of utter bullshit, he quietly inserted a request to his tightass father to get himself away from the dullness, even if just for a minute or two._

 _"Otou-sama, may I go with the other children to get dango?" he spoke up, quietly, with forced politeness._

 _"Oho! The boy has a sweet tooth?" one man said jovially._

 _"Madara, it is impolite to leave your guests in such a manner—" Tajima started irately, making the young man's eye twitch slightly, but was cut off by one of the nobles._

 _"Let the boy go and indulge himself, Uchiha-sama. After all, this celebration is for him, is it not…?" the noble noted, lazily fanning himself with a ridiculously bejeweled fan. "Besides, ninjas always burn off the fat from sweets_ _ **so**_ _easily. It is a phenomena my little girl is very jealous of."_

 _The Uchiha's Clan Head's nostrils flared slightly, but after a tense moment, he nodded his head. "Quite. Madara, I will allow you to eat the sweets."_

 _A glint of menace and promise was in the man's hard eyes. "But you will undergo…Extra training at a later date. Understood?"_

 _Damn._

 _Well, at least now he has the excuse to leave, and eat dango. Win-win…?_

 _"Hai, Otou-sama," Ma-kun deadpanned. He turned to the other men, bowing politely. "It was very nice to meet you all. Thank you for your kind words and well wishes. They are much appreciated."_

 _The young-man-in-a-child's-body bolted for it, after hearing their responses._

 _And just because he could, he ate five plates of dango, chatting all the while with the other children about different dango flavors._

 _He should be allowed a little bit of leeway, considering it was his second life's birthday._

* * *

 _…It was totally worth it. Both spending so much time with Byakuya, and eating all those sweets. Even if Tajima later drilled him to the ground during training in the next few days._

 _"Such preposterous stories—childish dreams!" the man scoffed, as he kept beating his eldest son to the ground. "Tainting the views of your impressionable little brother—and for what? To give him false reassurances? He will learn the ways of the world soon enough, as should you, Madara."_

 _All the young man did was sneer in response—both for the use of_ _ **that**_ _name, and for the man's ire._

 _The joke's on Tajima, though. Because considering his technically 'future' knowledge, the young man can be considered a prophet, and just told his little brother an abridged version of the future._

 _His story may have been 'preposterous', but it was the truth. And if that man didn't want to believe it…Well, too bad._

 _It would come true, and then they'd see which one was the stupid one._

 _And it_ _ **wouldn't**_ _be him._

* * *

" _Obaa-sama_ …!"

The old crone halted in her leisurely walk. She tilted her head slightly, eyes squinted and searching for the source of the call.

"Asa…Obaa…sama…" came the call through puffs of breath. Before her, Madara Uchiha stops from his sprint, hands supported upon his knees as he pants open-mouthed in front of her.

Asa Uchiha—medicine woman and midwife of the Uchiha Clan— feels mildly alarmed, but does not show it. She has only ever interacted with the three-year-old heir two separate times: his birth, and after the birth of his younger brother Byakuya, the Honorable Second Son.

"What can I do for you, Honorable Son…?" she asks kindly, deciding that demanding an explanation forthright may not be the best course of action. Uchiha men are very prideful creatures, after all. This is especially truthful for boys, and prodigies.

Young Madara is both a boy and a prodigy, and thusly, she will take a more cautious route with him.

The boy pants, until he is able to catch his breath, fueling his lungs. Once he does, he straightens up like a rod, to stare determinately into her eyes.

"I would like you to teach me about herbs and medicine, Asa-obaa-sama!" he exclaims, before executing a rather low bow to her.

The old crone hummed, feeling her eyebrows climb higher and higher upon her brow.

Asa had not seen such an event as being likely. Boys did not come to ask her to teach them medicine. That was simply a fact of life— like saying that the sky was blue.

Nay, if she was ever to teach a male her practices, it would be **she** that would seek out the young one. Often, this was not a very strenuous task; very many in her immediate family had the hands of healing and the precise chakra control needed for _iryou_ ninjutsu.

It was more a probable experience, for a young girl to ask the medicine woman for teachings in herbs, or wanting a form of tutelage. Women oft than not staid in home, to care for their families, and thusly needed the knowledge for when ailments befell.

For a boy to ask for her teachings—especially a son of the Head family—it was…unthinkable, before the very experience befell Asa on this fine, winter day.

Young Madara had not lifted himself from his bow, body tense and waiting for the old woman's reply.

A breath passed through cracked lips, before followed swiftly by a creaky chuckle.

"This is quite the surprise, Honorable Son," the midwife admits, voice heavy with curiosity. "Hmmm…However, if your father allows it, then I will gladly teach you. I believe starting with herbs and poisons should suffice."

The boy quickly snapped out of his bow, staring at her with wide eyes, full of hope and promise.

"Really…?" Madara breathes, a smile rising on his lips.

It was a nice expression on the boy—pity, that Tajima was trying his damndest to beat it out of the lad.

"Thank you very much, Asa-obaa-sama!" he says, quickly bowing to her once again.

"Mmmmm, don't thank me yet, young one," the crone hummed. "Your father must still approve of these lessons…"

"Oh," the lad muttered, posture drooping like a wilted flower under the harshness of death's chilly breath. "Yes, of course, Obaa-sama. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions."

"Nonsense, nonsense. It is quite alright," she waves him off with one of her wrinkled hands. "Come—I believe I should present my case to him myself. Kami knows he does not give you enough free time for self-study on the subject, with all that training he puts you through. I've informed him of how unhealthy it is for a child your age, but does he listen…? Nay, he still acts like the rash little boy of years past."

Madara made an amused, choked sound, and the woman grinned down at him impishly. She leaned towards the boy, lowering her voice, conspiratorially. "I remember when Tajima-san was your age, and he whined for pulling a leg muscle by doing too much strenuous training. He should have really learned from his mistakes, should he not?"

"I…Have never heard anyone speak of Otou-sama in such a way," the lad admits, voice thick with bemusement, his lips twitching upwards.

"I helped bring that whippersnapper into this world, Honorable Son, just as I have you," Asa says simply, a twinkle in her eyes. "Just because he is the Head of the Clan, does not mean that I will forget the past three decades of his life, that I have born witness."

* * *

 _After his second life's third birthday, and the looming birth of his third sibling, Ma-kun knew he had to start preparing._

 _The only person he knew for certain that was a pseudo-doctor…medic…person…was the midwife, the venerable Grandmother Asa, healer and granny to all. The old woman, who birthed him, as well as Byakuya._

 _…And, who, apparently, delivered Tajima Uchiha to the world as well._

 ** _That_** _was a bit…Disconcerting. And amusing. Just like how the crazy old lady talked shit about Tajima like it was nothing._

 _…Asa was his hero, really._

 _The young man had, at first, been incredibly nervous to ask her to teach him medicine. She was most certainly old enough to be senile, or retired, or too cranky to deal with kids._

 _But, after a few awkwardly silent seconds, she accepted to teach him._

 _He felt…euphoric, when the old woman accepted. Before promptly realizing that, a) he had to convince Tajima to accept the lessons, b) he didn't have enough free time to visit his mother, much less take more lessons, and c) Tajima put an emphasis on strength, so it was unlikely the man would allow him to take time from physical sparring into a more pacifistic activity, like healing._

 _Thankfully, the midwife was a cool grandma. A cool grandma who didn't give a shit about the Clan Head's opinions, because she was_ _ **way**_ _older than Tajima. Asa Uchiha pretty much watched the man grow from infancy to now, and probably did not take the man seriously, because of it._

 _…Yeah, that lady was crazy and awesome._

* * *

Asa Uchiha knew that Tajima Uchiha considered her crazy, when she had asked of him if young Madara would take lessons from her.

However, the old crone was firm in her request. Through a very lengthy discussion, she finally managed to win the battle of sharp tongues, and convince the obstinate man to allow it.

"How will Madara be able to care for himself and his wounds, if he knows not the art of healing? How will he cure himself from poisoning, if he knows not of the herbal remedies and cures? How will he flourish on the field, complete his missions, if he knows not of the art of poisons? Poisons may kill enemies, may fulfill discreet objectives of falling a target."

It was with those statements that managed to open Tajima's eyes to the benefits and necessities of Asa imparting her wisdom upon his eldest. She had first attempted to sway him with the adverse effects the constant training was on the lad's health, but if Tajima Uchiha was anything, it was bullheaded and blinded to the mistakes of his own past.

Currently, the old woman and the heir of the Uchiha Clan were sitting in a plain room within the Clan Head House. Thankfully, the boy's father allowed the lessons to last an hour—giving the poor little one an hour of physical rest in the insanity of a training regime he was subjected to.

The two—old woman and young boy—settled themselves with tea in front of the low table, that the servant woman prepared for them. They sat, as the servant left, before giving each other the basic pleasantries.

However, the crone could feel the energy make the young boy all but vibrate, his chakra bright and buzzing. Tajima's son seemed very much ready to start.

She was not one for long-winded, dragging small talk, herself. She could not afford to be flowery or lengthy in speech, when needing to snap orders to try and save the lives of the clansmen brought to her, bleeding out and all but dead upon her doorstep.

"Hmmm…Madara-kun, why did you want to study healing? Is it simply knowledge, for knowledge's sake?" Asa asked to calm-faced boy. A feeling of curiosity was nettling her, driving her to gain an answer to satiate it.

The elder could, indeed, believe the child if he said that was the case. Madara was prodigious, held a strong craving for knowledge, often reading in his spare time: at least, that is what others say of the boy.

"Please, Asa-obaa-sama—call me Ma-kun," the young one stated firmly, meeting her gaze. "I like the title much more than my…full name."

The hesitation he shows, and the frown painted upon his rounded face—truly, it shows the disgust he has of his name, very much plainly.

Asa had not known of the lad's apparent distaste for his name, prior to this. However, since the lad seems to often clash with his father, as of late…Yes, disliking the name his father bestowed upon him would be a logical conclusion.

"I see, I see," she nodded, taking a sip from her cup. "Ma-kun, then…Do you have a specific interest in medicine?"

The boy looked down into the depths of his tea, as if searching for the answers to the questions of the universe.

"Yes, I am interested in medicine," the young child admits, slowly turning the ceramic teacup counterclockwise. "I believe…Having knowledge in healing will be very beneficial. I can help others. Maybe even save their lives."

A noise of understanding rumbled low within the midwife's throat. "Yes, healing is a very important practice that many overlook. You are very wise for one so young, Ma-kun, in realizing the potential it holds."

The lad looked up at her, blinking his large, obsidian eyes. They reminded the crone of an owl; large, always watching, wise, alert in the dead of the night. "Ah…Thank you, Obaa-sama."

Asa let out a long breath upon the surface of her tea, cooling it, before taking a lengthy sip. Slowly, she placed the cup down, upon the table.

"Now, young one…Tell me all you know of the art of healing."

* * *

 _Ma-kun was elated, when Tajima had stopped their training early, an hour before lunch._

 _"Go to your herbal and poison lessons with Asa-obaa-sama," the man had said shortly, after making the young man go through a simple set of cool-down stretches. "Two rooms to the left of the study area used for your Calligraphy lessons. I expect you to do well, and to arrival punctually to lunch."_

 _"Yes, Otou-sama. Thank you," Not-Madara stated politely, trying to not show his enthusiasm for the lessons with Asa Uchiha._

 _Knowing Tajima, he'd rip those away from Ma-kun, too, if he got too attached._

 _'Attached' and 'showing any lick of positive emotion' are most likely correlated within the Clan Head's mind._

 _With quick strides on his pudgy three-year-old legs—and good God, he can't_ _ **wait**_ _until he at least hits puberty, if only to grow to a good enough height—Ma-kun enters the sprawling estate of the Clan Head's home. Once past the entrance room, the reincarnated soul bounds through the halls, bare feet slapping upon the wooden floors._

 _The young man zips through long halls, past rice paper screens, and around corners. He shoots quick 'hello's and 'good day's to the help, that he passes. They shoot quick greetings to him, as he bounds past them._

 _Ma-kun rounds the last corner, and slides around a servant carrying a tea service tray so he does not collide with the woman. He avoids her by executing a smooth pirouette— just because he can._

 _Plus, he's felling so giddy and_ _ **happy**_ _on gaining these lessons. He needs to be able to expend his jittery energy in_ _ **some**_ _way._

 _"Young Master!" the servant exclaims, giving a jolt. One of the tea cups tilts from the harsh movement, and teeters over the edge of the tray. Ma-kun deftly holds out his hands, catching the falling silverware easily, quick as a viper._

 _"Forgive me, Miss," Not-Madara starts, letting out a breath that's somewhat shaky from adrenaline and euphoria. He stands on his tiptoes, holding the cup up high. Even then, he's not tall enough to place the empty tea cup back onto the tray. He can't help the disgruntled pout that forms._

 _The woman kneels slightly, carefully lowering the tray until Ma-kun is able to put the cup back in its rightful place. There is an amused air around the woman. He feels himself redden in embarrassment._

 _"Curses upon my height," he mutters. The servant woman stifles a giggle. The three-year-old ducks slightly, both to hide his embarrassment, and apologize. "I'm sorry for startling you, Miss. I really should not be rushing to my lessons."_

 _"It is quite fine, Honorable Son," the servant says, serene. "I was just delivering the tea for your lessons with Asa-obaa-sama."_

 _"Really?" he muses, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at the plain woman. "Then, allow me to open the door for you."_

 _Quickly turning on his heel, the reincarnated soul strides down the hall, until he's before the shōji door of the room. He slides the screen over, politely gesturing for the servant woman to enter before him, a small, kind grin on his face._

 _The servant hesitates, looking a bit flustered and confused. She does not move forwards, to enter the room with the tea service._

 _Not-Madara blinks blankly, until he realizes that his actions were not part of usual social conventions of this time and place. Usually, women and servants enter the room after the men, and others of upper class; they kneel, ask to open the door, slide open the screen halfway, and then finally enter._

 _Oh. He must be_ _ **too**_ _polite and chivalrous._

 _Well…This was both very awkward, and very sad._

 _"Please, I insist," he presses, trying to hide his own doubt over his actions. After a few more moments of dithering, the servant woman shuffles into the room, kneeling before the low table to go through the usual motions of a tea ceremony._

 _Deciding that if he was already stomping over traditions, he'll just keep doing it, Ma-kun leaves the shōji door wide open, and enters the room. He greets his temporary teacher, sitting in seiza position, despite how much of an utter (literal) pain it is._

 _"Thank you for the tea, Miss. We will ask of you, if we need further services," he tells the servant woman kindly, once she's done with the tea ceremony. The woman ducks her head demurely._

 _"By your liege, Honorable Son," the servant says, bowing. She gathers the tray, stands, leaves the room, kneels, and slides the shōji door closed._

 _Honestly, he just sort of feels bad for the servants having to do all these tedious tasks. It's made worse with the fact that the servants are civilian Uchiha Clan members—mainly women. Sometimes there are men, who've never been able to become shinobi through small chakra networks, but that's more rare._

 _The Uchiha Clan is essentially making their own kind cater the Head Family hand and foot. Its ridiculous, and something Not-Madara honestly hopes he can change, in the future._

 _After the initial pleasantries exchanged, Asa Uchiha jumps straight into questioning him._

 _"Hmmm…Madara-kun, why did you want to study healing? Is it simply knowledge, for knowledge's sake?"_

 _"Please, Asa-obaa-sama—call me Ma-kun," the Not-Madara states firmly with a frown on his face, meeting her gaze. "I like the title much more than my…full name."_

 _If he can convince the old woman to_ _ **not**_ _call him that despicable name…That would be one less person he has to hear it from. And one more person to call him by the name of his choosing._

 _"I see, I see," the woman nods, taking a sip from her cup. "Ma-kun, then…Do you have a specific interest in medicine?"_

 _'You could say that again', the reincarnated soul thinks wryly._

 _He looks down into his cup of tea, debating on what exactly to tell the elder. From what he's seen so far of her character, Asa Uchiha is one of the more progressive, open-minded Uchiha—mostly to do with how the field of medicine is always expanding and changing, and needs a type of flexibility in order to peruse._

 _Telling her of his hopes and goals wouldn't hurt._

 _"Yes, I am interested in medicine. I believe…Having knowledge in healing will be very beneficial. I can help others. Maybe even save their lives."_

 _A noise of understanding rumbled low within the midwife's throat. "Yes, healing is a very important practice that many overlook. You are very wise for one so young, Ma-kun, in realizing the potential it holds."_

 _Ma-kun looked up at her, blinking._

 _Well…That was easy. Now, he has her trust and respect._

 _These lessons will no doubt be his saving grace. His own little domain, his slice of normalcy and hope._

 _"Ah…Thank you, Obaa-sama."_

 _"Now, young one…Tell me all you know of the art of healing," Asa goes on, leaning forwards to study him with keen interest._

 _Hmmm…How much to reveal? Ma-kun's still not fully sure of what modern medical practices are used in this time—or if any are used at all._

 _People knew that an arm was an arm, and had blood and flesh and bone. That if you stabbed through skin, you bled blood, and losing too much was a bad thing. They knew the best ways to kill, the weak spots and vital organs of the body. That if you get sick, you could die._

 _But, well…The knowledge of this time was rather laughable compared to what he knows of 21_ _st_ _Century medicine. The medical field hadn't even been very competent or reliable, until the 19_ _th_ _or 20_ _th_ _._

 _Hell, most of the texts he's managed to snag so far talked heavily over 'yin' and 'yang' areas of the body. This somehow tied into chakra. Most practices were half superstition and rituals, if anything, from what he read._

 _So, Not-Madara took in a deep breath, and readied himself for a very tedious, long-winded speech over concepts he didn't even fully comprehend, but were leagues above the knowledge the people of this time had about medicine._


	4. Knowledge, Herbs, and Fondness

Alright, so…Apparently, the medicine stuff got its own chapter anyways. Well then.

In my defense, Madara starts talking, and just won't shut the fuck up. Says a lot about me, and my writing style, doesn't it?

* * *

Knowledge, Herbs, and Fondness

* * *

 _"I know of the different parts of the body," Ma-kun started, after a few moments of consideration._

 _"Oh…?" came Asa Uchiha's mild reply._

 _"For example, the head," he starts, "has the eyes, nose, lips, chin, cheeks, forehead, ears, teeth, tongue..." As he lists these parts, he points to each and every one. "And all these have even more compl'cated parts to them. Each is has a unique make-up."_

 _The old woman nods, taking a drink of her tea. The young man goes on._

 _"There are many different systems of our body. For example, our chakra systems run parallel to our circ-u-la-tory system, which holds our blood. The main point of our chakra systems is our hara, which sits within our stomachs, and helps create and fuel chakra throughout our chakra points. However, the main organ for the circulatory system is our heart, and the second-most import'nt part is the brain._

 _The heart is a fascinating thing, you know. It has four chambers, with one a-tri-um and vent-ri-cle for each function. The left atrium receives the oxy-gen-ated blood from the lungs, then passes through the left ventricle to be pumped to different organs of the body. Oxygen, nu-tri-ents, hormones, and plasma are carried through the blood, helping nourishing our bodies and fight diseases._

 _Hmmm…And oxygen is taken in through our mouths, of course. From the mouth, to the pharynx and tra-ch-ea in our throats, down to our lungs. The actual process of in-ha-lation starts from the diaphragm, though— a muscle in our abdomens. It contracts, our ribcage expands, creates pressure in our chest, like a pump. Air goes in to our lungs, then air goes out._

 _Ah, and the brain is over-all a very important part of our body. The ruler of our nervous system, helping send signals from it to different sections of our body. It has mult'ple areas to it: like the hi-ppo-campus to store memories, the amyg-da-la that fuels fear, the ce-re-bellum for our balance, and the frontal lobe for our con-scious thought and functions. Our brain is the reason we feel pain, form thoughts, move our limbs, can see and process, have memories, etcetera._

 _The heart may fuel our body, and the lungs pump oxygen to help, but the brain is what makes all living beings_ _ **live**_ _, rather than useless bags of flesh."_

 _The reincarnated soul finally takes a few deep breaths. That long stream of word-barf winded him, as well as how tricky some of those words were to pronounce, in the mouth of a three-year-old body. He idly picked up his tea, and took some sips, to combat the dryness of his parched throat._

 _The old woman stares at him. She'd set down her cup at the start of his long-winded explanation; if she'd still been holding it, when he finished, there's a good chance she would have dropped it._

 _"You…You've given your own titles to the Blood, Breath, and Thought Paths?" she asks, voice faint. "And you have innate knowledge of their major functions, including what creates the vital organs?"_

 _Ma-kun pauses. Then curses internally, when he sees his mistake._

 _He's forgotten that in these times, they don't actually_ _ **have**_ _scientific names for the systems of the body. Nor do they really know much of how these systems works, other than the fact that the heart pumps blood, the lungs help you breath, and the brain is_ _ **very**_ _important._

 _He'd just started talking, and couldn't help but keep babbling on and on. His inner nerd and respect for teachers simply fueled him to show how much on the subject he know._

 _…Whoops._

 _"Uh…" he trails off, cringing slightly. "Maaaaybe?"_

 _The room is silent for a good minute. Ma-kun tries not to squirm in discomfort, as he stares down at his tea._

 _"Child."_

 _The reincarnated soul looks up, hesitantly meeting Asa's eyes. They almost seem to shine._

 _The old woman reaches out, clamping a hand on each of his shoulders. She leans forwards, over the table, to stare at him. The look on her face is akin to someone witnessing a miracle before her very eyes._

 _"Tell me more."_

* * *

It swiftly becomes a daily ordeal. During the lessons, Asa teaches the young lad about different poisons and herbs for the first half. The second half is reserved solely for Ma-kun to explain how the remedies would work.

Usually, the boy goes off on tangents. He will go from how the remedies functioned, to how certain parts of the body function. When pressed, he will go in-depth in his explanations.

"I see. And how would this poison travel through the blood, Ma-kun?"

"Ah. Well, it really depends on where it is in-jec-ted," the lad starts, looking above in contemplation. "If int-ro-duced using a blade, and if it hits certain points…Well, it all depends on luck, and—"

"How would it travel, if started from the beginning? For the sake of clarity," the old woman carefully interjects. If she lets him, he will babble, using terms that he does not explain, and Asa will never understand his brilliant trail of thought.

The boy flushes, sheepishly raising a soft hand to scratch at a rosy cheek. "I…Yes, of course, Asa-obaa-sama. May I…?"

The boy gestures to the scroll and calligraphy set that sit innocently on the table. With a knowing grin, the old woman nods, approving him to use the tools.

Ma-kun slides the materials towards himself, carefully setting his tea aside. He flicks open the scroll with a practiced movement of his wrist, dips a small brush within the prepared inkwell, and begins the process of drawing a diagram, to supplement his explanation.

"Well, I'm not the most certain of how it would look. But I b'lieve the easiest comp-a-ri-son is to think of it in a form of a tree, with branches and twigs," he starts, a sea of lines blooming upon the stark, blank surface. A tree does, in fact, seem to appear under the young one's brush.

"Blood goes through the circulatory system. The first stop is the a-or-ta—a massive and thick-walled ar-ter-y. It is essentially the trunk of the tree. The aorta arches and branches into the major arteries. They are the thick, supportin' branches—or, a large stream— within the system."

The young one carefully writes off the odd terms in careful hiragana. His penmanship is still shaky and sloppy, of that of a child, ink dripping and splotching, lines arching too deep or too thin.

She is not proud to say, but Asa Uchiha will often have a lapse in judgment, when it comes to the boy. She can forget that Madara Uchiha is still, in fact, a three-year-old child. The way he speaks and acts is more of that of adult—if not, an elder.

"Arteries branch into art-e-ri-oles—think of them as regular branches—before they become cap-i-llar-ies. Sticks. Capillaries become veins— the twigs of the tree. The veins are the finest part of the circulatory system. Like the cracks to glass, or the web of a spider, they are the farthest-reaching of the network."

The lad sets down his brush. Then he lays his hand on the table, upwards, in front of the old crone. "Those blue webs that show b'neath our skin, seen most prom'nently in our wrists? Those are veins. Since they're easy to see and feel, they are the best points to draw blood from."

To humor him, the old woman lays down her weathered, wrinkled hand, besides his upon the table. Her own veins show much more starkly than the young lad's—they arch up, amongst her wrinkles, bulging.

"Do you know why they are much prominent in my hand than that of yours, Ma-kun?" she asks, merely on a whim.

She should not be surprised that he has an answer for her. Yet, she is still bemused and impressed, when the child instantly responds.

"There is a thicker layer of tissue under the skin in children, making it of'en di-ffi-cult to see their veins. Our skin also becomes thinner, with age. The amount of me-la-nin in our skin is also a fac-tor, since it controls the pigment—color—of our skin."

Asa Uchiha cannot help but consider Madara a reincarnation of a medicine God. It is the only explanation she has, for the sheer amount of **knowledge** the boy holds.

Many of the things the boy speaks of, are not held in any medical texts. The old crone should know; she has read all those that are present within the compound, and has even written a few of them with her own hands.

No doubt, Madara will become a great medic-nin and healer. If he was not Tajima's heir, Asa would snatch the boy up and spirit him away, so that he may focus on such studies.

* * *

 _Ma-kun finds that it's surprisingly enjoyable, to talk and spend time with Asa Uchiha. The hour he spends with the old woman is the most enjoyable part of his days._

 _Asa Uchiha is one of the few people in the Uchiha Clan that he can show his true self. She doesn't judge him. She just lets him talk._

 _Of course, most of what he talks about are his musings over medicine, since that's what the lessons are about. It's actually pretty fun. He gets a lot of reactions from her, every time he reveals something new._

 _He's being very blatant in his knowledge, he knows. But he can't exactly find it in himself to care. Medicine is something he_ _ **needs**_ _in this blood-soaked world, and she's always willing to listen._

 _It's ironic, that the reincarnated young man has never actually practiced medicine, in his last life. Most of what he knows is from self-study or science classes from public school. He's never had the time or money to become a doctor, like his parents always wanted from him, despite his mild interest in the subjects._

 _He's grateful for the break his lessons with the midwife, in his stupidly, painfully full schedule he has. He enjoys spending time with the elder. But…_

 _But he still misses seeing Fumiko and Byakuya._

* * *

Three weeks have passed, since the start of the lessons the medicine woman has bestowed upon Madara.

He is ridiculously advanced. He speaks of methods and medicines that she has never heard of. Most likely, they have not even been invented, at this time.

Madara Uchiha's ideas when it comes to healing are revolutionary. The crone can feel this deep within her bones, a conviction that will no doubt be known to all, in due time.

Why, often, Asa feels as if the lessons are more for her own benefit. That **she** is the student, and Ma-kun is the teacher. His innate understanding of the human body has helped her in diagnosing and healing her clansmen much more efficiently.

The boy is getting distracted, however, as the days go by. He is always ready to thank Momo-chan for the tea, is patient and very invested in Asa's lessons. He appears to have full clarity about himself, yet when he begins to ramble…His eyes are unfocused, he pauses in longer intervals, and more oft than not, the subject diverts to babes and pregnancies.

It would not take a genius to find what is his preoccupation.

"What do you know of ginger, Ma-kun?" she asks, setting down a small, wrapped bundle of the root in the middle of the table.

"It's…a root? And also a food," the boy starts, a pout of confusion upon his chubby cheeks. "It can be made into a tea, and in-cor-por-ated in other dishes."

"That is all true," she hums. "However, ginger is an herb that can also help in relieving nausea and vomiting. It may reduce inflammation, and rouse digestion, as well."

The boy tilts his head to the side slightly, like a small dog. "What are the risks?"

"You believe there are risks?" Asa asks, one of her brows rising.

"There are risks to everything, Asa-obaa-sama. Even a healthy herb, if taken in large enough doses, could be lethal," Ma-kun refutes, giving a shrug of his thin shoulders.

How wise of him to realize this. "Large amounts of ginger may effect the circulation of blood," the old crone confirms, a smile twitching upon her lips.

"So, it can cause blood thinning. It may not be good for women to have large doses, as it could irritate their men-stru-al cycles," the boy muses, looking into the depths of his tea. "Hmmm, and it may cause abdominal dis-com-fort, would it not? Too much fiber from the root would effect digestion, makin' going to the bathroom become loose and painful."

"All valid points. In fact, I did not consider the consequence of such bodily functions. I suppose it is logical, to consider an herb that is useful for digestion have an averse effect," the old crone chuckled, at the boy sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"Ah…What other herbs would you like to teach me, Asa-obaa-sama?" the boy asked, in lieu of speaking more on the subject.

"Dandelion leaf and root are bitter, but are nutritive. They do well for hormones, liver health, and digestion. Parsley helps in menstruation. Cinnamon improves circulation, and reduces menstrual bleeding," the midwife goes on, tapping a finger idly against her tea cup.

"Yes, but can't Parsley also cause mis-carr-iage, if large doses are consumed? And too much Cinnamon is toxic to the liver, as well," the child babbles, before pausing. He squints at the old woman, making the edge of her lips curl upwards.

"Asa-obaa-sama," he starts, voice deadly serious. "I feel that there is a distinct pattern to these herbal remedies."

"There is," the old crone replies, a twinkle in her eyes. "I feel that you are mature enough to help me in my midwife duties, Ma-kun. Thus, the overview of herbal remedies that do well for pregnancies."

Tajima's heir stares at her with wide eyes, mouth agape. His eyes shine, as he grips her hand with his small, porcelain ones.

"I would be honored," he says, tears budding in his hopeful eyes.

* * *

 _The very next day, Asa takes him to Byakuya's nursery._

 _Sitting there on the couch— looking pale and tired, but still full of warmth and fondness—is Fumiko Uchiha. Besides her sits Byakuya, all of seventeen months, playing with a stuffed animal._

 _Ma-kun doesn't even care that the wet-nurse and servants are in the room, tidying up the nursery and readying a meal for Byakuya. After shaking himself from his stupor, hovering in the doorway, he runs over to his second life's mother and brother._

 _"Kaa-chan!" he exclaims, voice nearing a wail. He tackles the woman from the side in a hug, careful to not jostle her large, pregnant belly._

 _Ma-kun instantly buries his face in the crook of Fumiko's neck, breathing in the scent of jasmine tea and clean silk that the petite woman radiates. He's feeling so overwhelming_ _ **happy**_ _and_ _ **safe**_ _, that he can't stop the tears that slip from his eyes._

 _"Ma-kun…?" his mother—his_ _ **mother**_ _, who's okay and still the in flesh—asks. She sounds a bit baffled from his sudden presence._

 _He sniffs, wiping his damp eyes on the shoulder of her kimono, before he ducks his head up. A smile curls up his lips. "Asa-obaa-sama's letting me see you. For my lessons."_

 _"Nii-san?" Byakuya calls, grasping at the young man's sleeve, and tugging hard. "Me too!"_

 _The reincarnated soul laughs openly, turning to the little boy. He bends down, scooping up his little brother carefully, hugging Byakuya to him. "Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you, otouto."_

 _In the background, he can hear the servants coo and sigh. He hides a smirk into Byakuya's dark, messy hair. He's also missed them coddling and cooing over him; it had been fun, while it lasted._

 _Not-Madara sets his younger brother down carefully. He beams at his second life's mother—who's looking rather overwhelmed with emotion._

 _"I'm helping you with your new baby, Kaa-chan. Asa-obaa-sama says I'm ready."_

 _"But…What will Tajima say?" Fumiko murmurs in bewilderment, eyes wide like a doe. She looks from her first son, to the servants, to the midwife._

 _"Well, Tajima-_ _ **sama**_ _—" Asa drawls, the honorific sounding sarcastic "—never specifically prohibited Ma-kun from seeing you or the Honorable Second Son. He simply filled Ma-kun's schedule, so that he did not have spare time to do so…_

 _He never one said that Ma-kun could not visit, during lessons, if his teacher allows it," she finishes, a sly smile on her face, her eyes crinkling and twinkling impishly._

 _Hell_ _ **yes**_ _for loopholes…!_

 _Asa Uchiha is the coolest damn grandma in the universe. It's official. No contest. Everyone else, go home._

 _The maidservants and wet-nurse started to titter amongst one another._

 _No, that wouldn't do…Those women were large gossipers, and gossip spread amongst the servants like wildfire. If word got to Tajima through them, he'd close that loophole. Maybe he'd even cancel Asa's lessons._

 _He'd have to take this into his own hands, then._

 _Not-Madara turned to face the servants, looking up at them through his lashes, eyes wide. 'Think defenseless kitten, think puppy-eyes from a puppy, think baby pandas, think defenseless doe,' he chanted to himself, trying to muster as much cuteness and innocence as he could, until he could fine-hone it into a deadly weapon._

 _"You…You won't tell Otou-sama…Right?" he asked, voice purposefully halting. It made him sound small, hopeful, and pleading. He clasped his hands in front of him, bashfully and demurely scuffing the floor with one of his feet._

 _As if one entity, the women visibly softened._

 _'Almost there,' he thinks. 'Too easy.'_

 _"I…I just want to help my Kaa-chan and otouto," he goes on, voice meek, manifesting the look of a kicked puppy into his voice. He easily wills tears to burn his vision, from simply thinking of Fumiko's eyes becoming glossy and empty. "I really enjoy my lessons with Asa-obaa-sama, but…But if he finds out, then…Then…"_

 _His voice goes high and wobbly, and he scrunches his face for maximum impact._

 _The response is near instantaneous._

 _Faced with their sweet, three-year-old heir apparently ready to burst into tears, who was just reunited with his mother and younger brother in the first time in weeks…Well, the servants couldn't find any other way to proceed, other than to comfort him._

 _"Awwwww—"_

 _"Honorable Son…!"_

 _"Please don't cry!"_

 _"We promise not to say anything!"_

 _"Oh, poor boy—"_

 _"We won't tell a soul!"_

 _Ma-kun sniffed his tears back down, biting his smile down, making sure it staid small and pitiful._

 _"Really?" he asked them, tilting his head to the side and poking his index fingers together._

 _"We promise!" the maidservants chorused._

 _Ma-kun put a hand on his heart, giving them the biggest, most genuine, heartfelt smile he could muster. "Thank you."_

 _The end result was a lot of cooing and fussing over him by the servants, as the young man gave a pleased smile. He shot a cheeky look over to Asa, who merely shook her head, and let out a long laugh._

 _"Kaa-chan, Kaa-chan!" he crowed, squirming out of the servants' grasps and bouncing over to Fumiko. He took her hands in his, and grinned warmly at her. "How are you feeling, Kaa-chan? Anything I can help you with?"_

 _The petite woman blinked, giving a bemused shake of her head._

 _"You being here with me, my son, is anything I ever needed," she responded sweetly, passing a hand over his head to smooth his hair down._

 _Ma-kun gave her a soft smile in return, feeling overwhelming fondness for her._

 _In the background, he heard the servants sigh as one at the apparently heartwarming sight. His grin widened. "I'll try my best to help."_

* * *

Madara Uchiha is apparently a charmer, even at this age.

The boy has the female servants wrapped around his finger, completely and wholly ensnared.

The lad managed to convince the servants to hold their tongues and not gossip about him visiting Fumiko-sama. All through the use of his innocent looks, a bit of truthful emotion, and a manipulative streak.

Young Ma-kun genuinely cares for others. It is one of his greatest traits, the old woman believes. Seeing the boy manage to move the servants so artfully and convince them so well, is only proof of that.

When the boy had shot her a cheeky look, as he was surrounded and coddled by the maidservants, Asa Uchiha couldn't help but laugh.

The boy will have no problems in getting others to follow him. He is rather charismatic, despite his young age—or perhaps, it is **because** of it…?

The midwife watches the young boy fret over his mother and younger brother, and believes that her decision to allow him to assist her in caring for Fumiko-sama was indeed a fruitful idea.

She has never seen the boy smile so much.

* * *

 _Being able to see Fumiko and Byakuya an hour a day has been…Good. Great._ _ **Fantastic**_ _._

 _He gets to be the son and older brother, again. He gets to care for his mother, and look over her. He gets to_ _ **do**_ _something he cares about._

 _Time passes all too quickly._

 _Fumiko is getting further on with her pregnancy. She becomes paler and paler, frailer and frailer. Ma-kun and Asa give her many different teas and herbal remedies, but there is always an air around the Clan Head's wife that isn't…right._

 _And it seems like every time Ma-kun closes his eyes, he imagines her shrieking in pain, and her kind eyes going glassy._

 _The worry he has for his second life's mother makes him wake up in a cold sweat, heart leaping up in his throat. He's starting to get nightmares, unless he trains himself hard enough to the ground to simply limp into bed and slip into a deep, dreamless sleep._

 _He's not learning fast enough, he thinks frantically. None of the herbal remedies are helping. He won't be able to help her. He won't be able to help her, and she'll_ _ **die**_ _, and—_

 _Letting out a shaking breath, Ma-kun digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, as he sits up in his bed, awake from another nightmare._

 _Fumiko is only two weeks away from giving birth._

 _…He needs to talk to Asa-obaa-sama about this._

* * *

It has been six weeks since the start of the lessons with Ma-kun. It is entering the second week of February, the looming due date of Fumiko-sama's third child.

The young lad seems to become much more frantic and scattered in thought, when the birth of his young sibling looms ever closer. The heir's skin turns ashen, there are bruises under his eyes from lack of sleep, and he is very… twitchy.

The boy seems to be wilting, shriveling, dying—like a delicate flower upon the bombardment of frost-water, during the winter solstice. Even when he is sitting calmly within the study-room, poring over herbs and texts she has provided him, there is…an air of dread and melancholy that surrounds him, despite the brightness he shows when studying.

It is mirroring the deterioration of Fumiko-sama's health much too closely. It is worrying.

It is during one of their lessons—as the old woman and the young boy are seated under the _kotatsu_ —that the crone decides to broach the subject of young Madara's worsening state.

"Ma-kun…Tell me, why did you want to study healing?" she asks once more, voice soft and low, an inkling of suspicion and **knowing** within her stomach.

The boy jolts, turning to stare at her with wide, haunted eyes, rimmed by black from lack of sleep. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words do not seem to come.

He closes his mouth, swallows loudly, licks his dried lips, and manages to make words bloom upon his tongue.

"To…Save my mother. She might…She might die in childbirth."

A shudder wracks through the young one's body, despite the warmth of the kotatsu. The shudder makes his entire body tremble for a few heartbeats. It as if the weight of such a thought is leaving him, now that he has voiced it aloud.

The crone gravely nods in acceptance and understanding.

"That is a fine reason, my boy," she tells him, voice gentle and weathered, as she thinks back to all the times she has witnessed a mother or child die during childbirth.

…This poor boy. He has such a noble, kind heart…

Just like Fumiko-sama.

* * *

 _The reincarnated young man jolts awake, when someone knocks on his door._

 _He scrambles in his bed, throwing the covers off himself. He rolls, and is instantly on his feet._

 _His legs wobble, and he's still disoriented from the lack of sleep. But he bounds towards his door, and slams it open._

 _One of the servants—Momo, the woman who always fetches tea for his and Asa's lessons—is standing on the other side of the screen. Her face is pale, and she is panting, her simply yukata ruffled. Like she just ran here._

 _"Y-Young Master," she chokes out. "Asa-obaa-sama has asked for your presence."_

 _Ma-kun stares up at the young woman, his entire body feeling like it's freezing over. Although, it could most certainly be because he's shoe-less in the middle of February, but it's something_ _ **more**_ _. A coldness bone-deep, a shiver going down his spine._

 _Something's wrong._

 _"Do you know why?" he asks her quickly (demands, more like it)._

 _Momo gulps, nodding her head quickly, causing hairs so slip from the messy bun that she's arranged it in._

 _"Fumiko-sama is in labor."_

 _"…FUCK."_

 _Ma-kun slides around Momo, hitting the hallway's wall, and propels himself forwards, feet pounding hard against the wooden floors, chakra fueled into his legs to give him the needed speed._

 _Fuck, fuck fuck fuck—_

 _This was a week too early!_


	5. Birth of the New, Death of the Other

Sorry for the late update, but I ran a bit out of steam, and with less time than usual from the busyness of holidays and school. I'm going to focus on updating _White Hair, Red Eyes, and a Pack of Lies_ weekly, and this fic **only once or twice a month**.

On another note, I listened to Simple and Clean/ Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru while writing this was, and let me tell you, it was an experience. And if I didn't even make you tear up just a little with this chapter, then I've failed. Or you have no soul. Either or.

I usually don't put any trigger warnings, but this chapter is pretty intense, so… _Warning_ : Labor/birthing, blood, asphyxiation, CPR, death, etc. Maybe I should bump this up to an M rating?

* * *

Reply to _Guest_ on timeskips: When I put slow build in the summary, I really meant it. There won't be any large timeskips, until at least all of Madara's siblings are born.

Reply to _Guest_ #2: Thank you for liking the story! I try my best to portray the Pre-Village Era, since there's so little about it in canon. And switching POVs is something I thought would be interesting, and flesh things out.

Reply to _Guest_ #3: Thank you very much! I try to go for realism, which is why things are going so slowly, because I tend to ramble and go really in-depth into things (like Ma-kun. Which make sense, as this story is about me being a self-insert.)

* * *

Birth of the New, Death of the Other

* * *

It had been any other night, in the Head Family's home.

Tajima Uchiha finished walking Madara through their training routine. The moon was high in the night sky.

Silent as a shadow, the Uchiha Clan Head slipped into his bedchambers. His wife was sleeping, still and quiet, barring the slow rise and fall of her form.

The man slid into the large, daimyo-grade, raised bed. He situated himself on the edge of his separate side, in case of emergency and the need to be on his feet quickly.

Twenty minutes, and the man was woken from his light slumber. Fumiko was groaning in pain, shifting about in her side of the bed.

Every time his eyelids closed for but a mere moment to rest, they snapped open once more. Fumiko was groaning regularly.

Something was…not quite right.

A sudden yell pealed past his wife's soft lips. She clutched at her bloated stomach, body tense, teeth grit.

The petite woman tried to sit up, but floundered. Tajima watched her, brow furrowed in concern, mouth in a tight line.

Another pained yell, and Tajima was instantly on his feet, by his wife's side.

The man helped his wife to sit up, shifting her body, a hand firmly around her arching back. Fumiko fumbled, before grasping his other hand, squeezing it tightly for a civilian.

"D-Dear," she gasped. Another painful exclamation passed her lips, through gritted teeth. "I-I believe my…my water broke!"

The husband's entire body stilled. Then he gave a twitch.

With a mounting feeling of dread, his eyes slowly slid down his wife's form, down to her lap. A puddle of wetness was spreading across the fine, silken sheets.

This has never happened, during Madara and Byakuya's births. His wife's water broke during the waking hours of the day, **not** during the height of the moon at nightfall.

The man paled.

"I will get the servants and midwife," he promised, pecking Fumiko's brow and giving her a comforting squeeze.

He managed to detach his wife's petite hand from his, and quickly strode to his door. He did **not** scramble and run in a panic. Nay, he was the Head of the Uchiha Clan, and he did things with poise, grace, and calmness.

Not a soul was around to see him flounder, barring his wife—who was in labor. No one could not refute his words.

Another yell from Fumiko, and Tajima spiked his chakra for the midwife to come **immediately**.

* * *

 _Left, around the corner, down the hall, fourth door to the right—that's where Tajima and Fumiko's bedroom was._

 _A quick, instinctive scan of the area, and Ma-kun could feel at least ten chakra signatures inside. Good. Because the actual room for labor was farther away—and, wait, shouldn't the fact that Fumiko was giving birth in her bed be a_ _ **little**_ _unsettling?_

 _No matter._

 _"Asa-obaa-sama! Kaa-chan!" Not-Madara exclaimed, bursting into the room, breathing heavily. His entire body felt like it was vibrating, from the spike of adrenaline, as he took in the scene before him._

 _Fumiko was, in fact, going into labor while lying in her bed._

 _"_ _ **Madara**_ _?" Tajima asked, baffled. The man turned to glare at Asa. "What is the meaning of this?! The boy should not be here! He has no use in such a situation as a labor!"_

 _Okay, he's gotta have to admit, Tajima sort of has a point._

 _But then again, Ma-kun is probably one of the best options to help with this._

 _The reincarnated soul made his way to the midwife, ignoring his second life's father, who glaring at him in a mixture of anger and confusion._

 _"He is here to help, Tajima-sama," the old woman responded curtly. "He is far enough in his studies to assist me with midwife duties."_

 _Ma-kun looked around at the general disorder and panic of the room, and tried to think of what was needed._

 _"Someone—get a tub of water, a bar of soap, and a few towels," he ordered. "Make sure the water has been boiled, and then cooled. Any and all who are going to directly work in helping birth the baby need to have clean, ste-rile hands."_

 _Asa Uchiha carefully set aside the herbal concoction she was feeding Fumiko. "_ _ **Well**_ _?" she said, tone clipped, to the general room. "You heard the boy!"_

 _Three servants scrambled out of the room to get just those things._

 _"Do we have an extra towel or rag?" Ma-kun asked, looking around. One of Asa's assistants came forwards, handing him one. "Is this clean?" A nod. "Good."_

 _The boy twisted the towel, going to stand next to his mother's head. He handed the rope-like bundle to a disoriented Fumiko. "Kaa-chan, bite down on this. You can let out your frustrations and pain when the con-tract-ions hit, and will help against you dis-loc-a-ting her jaw or biting your tongue."_

 _"Yes, very good," the midwife nodded, before she shifted her attention to sorting through her satchel of herbs._

 _Fumiko gave another cry, and Ma-kun quickly stuffed the towel in her mouth. His mother bit down hard, face flushed, but it seemed to be doing her some good. He took the towel out again, when the pain seemed to pass, and Fumiko panted. "Better?"_

 _"Y-Yes. Thank you, my son," she said weakly, passing a quick hand over his head. The sweat from her hand plastered down his unkempt bed head._

 _Feeling eyes on him, Ma-kun turned to Tajima, who was blatantly staring at him with an unreadable expression._

 _"Otou-sama. This may take a while," the reincarnated soul said, voice neutral. "Do you know if there is a space ready for the baby? Or if the rest of the clan know of Fumiko-okaa-sama's labor?"_

 _Extending an olive branch. Cementing a reason for him to be here with his mother._

 _Hopefully, Tajima will take it._

 _The man stares for a few more silent seconds, before he nods. "I will see to it." Tajima steps forwards, takes one of Fumiko's hands in his, giving a squeeze. "I will be back. You will be in good hands," he murmurs to his wife, voice soothing and—dare say—_ _ **kind**_ _._

 _Despite all her strength going into going into labor, Fumiko still manages to beam at both Tajima and Not-Madara. "I have confidence in them, dear husband."_

 _Tajima gives a nod, lingering by the bedside, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room. Ma-kun lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding._

 _"Honorable Son, we have the items you requested!" huffed one of the servants, as the three who went out came back in the room, toting the basin of water, soap, and a few extra towels. The water still held warmth, from the wisps of steam rising from the basin._

 _It will have to do._

 _"Thank you," Ma-kun nodded, nodding to the floor by a dresser. "Set the tub down there."_

 _He went over, crouched over the basin, and took the soap. He thoroughly scrubbed down his hands, washing them quickly to not scald himself, drying them soon after. "Asa-obaa-sama, let me look over Kaa-chan. You need to keep clean, as well."_

 _The two healers switched places—Ma-kun now sifting through the herbs. He wished they had antibiotics and anesthetics, but they hadn't been invented yet, much less_ _ **heard**_ _of in child birthing._

 _He'd have to probably do that, some time in the future. The young man bit down a groan of frustration. Other than modern medicine, he probably also had to find a way to help with creating modern technology, and that was such a_ _ **pain**_ _, since he wasn't even a scientist or inventor. Hell he wasn't even a medical student or practitioner! Just some guy with too much time on his hands, and a ridiculously good memory._

 _At least washing their hands dramatically cut down on disease being passed to mother and child during childbirth. That was something doctors didn't do regularly, until mid-twentieth century._

 _Now, which natural remedy would act as a painkiller, and_ _ **wouldn't**_ _adversely affect his mother or the baby…?_

* * *

Tajima's mind was still reeling.

His wife has suddenly gone in labor, in the dead of night. His eldest son—an obstinate boy of only three—is helping the midwife with the labor.

Madara held himself with authority and assuredness, and seemed to know perfectly well what he was doing. It goes against what Tajima had thought of the boy, as of recently.

It showed that Madara could very well be fit as a leader. Perhaps it is not certain if he will be good for the battlefield, but the boy seems born for the role…

The Head of the Uchiha Clan yanked a hand through his hair in frustration. He has spent the last two hours strait, going about the compound, snapping out orders and giving explanations.

Things have never been so hectic, nor as tiring. The Uchiha Clan compound seemed more akin to a time of post-battle, then simply a case of the Head's venerable wife giving birth.

It was chaotic. That is the only word the man could describe the situation. Uchiha were supposed to be calm and composed, yet members of all kind were rushing about like headless chickens.

Even Tajima himself was agitated. He could not stand still.

By Kami, he was **pacing**. Pacing!

Tajima barely kept himself from passing a tired hand over his face, and giving into a bout of hysterical laughter. If his father could see him now…

But, no. Father had died long ago, in battle. His father was dead, and Tajima had been Clan Head for years, as of now.

The man wondered idly, if his bedchambers were also in a state of panic.

Turning sharply on his heel, the man decided to find out.

* * *

 _Childbirth_ _ **may**_ _be a miracle, but it was painful and gross and_ _ **loud**_ _._

 _In his first life, the young man had only been to the hospital room in person to watch women give birth once. That of one of his cousins._

 _The fact that he was currently in the body of a three-year-old and was trying to help his second mother give birth was completely and utterly absurd. It was also the situation he found himself in, right now._

 _What the fuck was even his life…?_

 _"How much is she di-la-ting?" Ma-kun asked Asa. He was avoiding the whole staring-into-Fumiko's-vagina deal, both out of embarrassment and respect._

 _"I believe she is more than half-way."_

 _"Okay. Okay, we need to make sure she's getting enough lu-bri-cation while dilating. And, um…More liquids should help along the process," he rambled._

 _In hospitals, they had IVs and stuff, but those didn't exist yet. So, they needed to get Fumiko to manually have more liquids._

 _"Oh! And something that will boost iron for her blood. Bleeding can happen if there's any tears or com-pli-cations. Need to make sure she has something helping stim-u-late blood cells," he added, as he stopped a servant by the arm to peer into the glass they held._

 _"Make sure the water has pre-vi-ously been boiled and cooled, please," he tells the servant—Momo-san— who only nods frantically, before leaving the room with another to sort that out. He's not taking any damn chances._

 _"What do you suggest, Ma-kun?" Asa asks, as she's about to help Fumiko drink some tea._

 _"Wash your hands first, please," the reincarnated young man chides automatically, before he realizes what he's done, flushing awkwardly. He fumbles forwards, to take the tea from a bemused Asa. "F-Forgive me."_

 _"It is of no consequence, Ma-kun," the old woman tells him gently, before she goes off to cleanse her hands._

 _"Here, Kaa-chan. Drinking this will help," he says soothingly, helping his mother sit up, tipping the glass slowly so she could drink._

 _"Thank you," the woman pants, giving him a wan smile, and gently touching his cheek. Not-Madara flushes, returning the smile, as he puts a cooling rag on her heated forehead. Then he answers Asa's previous inquiry._

 _"Something high in Vitamin-C will help with iron intake…Hmmmm, lemons should do. Perhaps a lemonade?" he suggests. Instantly, one of the servants rushes out, squeaking out something about how they will make it._

 _Ma-kun gives a slow blink, feeling incredulous that his suggestion was taken as an order, and someone rushed out to fulfill it almost instantaneously._

 _Huh. Maybe snapping out orders since he stepped in to help has conditioned the servants…?_

 _Shaking his head quickly, he goes on to chat in low tones with the midwife._

 _Time passes. Fumiko is in constant pain from contractions, going in and out of lucidity. They keep trying to give her herbs and teas and liquids, to help her. At some point, Tajima comes in to check up on things, and Not-Madara can't bring himself to look over at the man._

 _At some point, though, things go horribly wrong. Or horribly right, depending on one's perspective._

 _"Push, Fumiko-sama!" Asa says encouragingly._

 _Fumiko grasps Tajima's hand in a death grip, as she howls from the pain and strain._

 _Ma-kun, meanwhile, stands off to the side, next to Asa. And he's internally flipping the_ _ **fuck**_ _out._

 _The old woman is positioned in-between Fumiko's opened legs, both to apply iryo-ninjutsu to help with the pain, and to watch for the baby. Ma-kun is supposed to be there as back-up—with a readied towel and everything—but he feels completely and utterly useless._

 _"I see the crown!" the old woman crows._

 _After a few minutes—full of painful shrieks and frayed nerves—Asa finally manages to get a good hold on the newborn baby, and pulls it out._

 _"It is a boy. Congratulations, Tajima-sama," the old woman says._

 _Ma-kun quickly wraps the newborn in his readied towel, while the midwife cuts the umbilical chord. The baby is small, and covered in blood._

 _A bit premature. That…Isn't a good sign._

 _He bites his lip, but cleans the newborn with gentle movements, readying the baby boy to be held by his father._

 _Not-Madara spares a quick look over to his second life's parents, before noticing something._

 _Fumiko's stomach is larger than normal, and she's still straining herself._

 _Ma-kun feels his blood rushing from his face, in shock._

 _"Twins," he chokes out, voice a wisp of sound._

 _His thought it confirmed, when Asa gives an exclamation. "The bleeding is not stopping! I believe that there is something else within the womb!"_

 _The reincarnated soul rushes over, foisting his new brother into an alarmed Tajima's arms. "Please hold him. There will be another on the way." Without letting the man reply, the boy bounded back to Asa's side._

 _"It's a case of twins. The second one still needs to be birthed," he rambles, taking another towel from a passing servant._

 _"Impossible! There should not be a second babe," replied the old woman, furrowing her brow. "Fumiko-sama has already gone into labor earlier then expected, and she did not become bloated enough for two."_

 _Ma-kun bit down a curse. "Premature. The second twin is prob'ly smaller and weaker than the first, and they're both premature. Something's gone wrong with the preg-nan-cy. Not enough nutrients."_

 _"It seems that we will still have to get the child out, however…" the old woman sighed, tone going lower. "Either the second babe, or the mother, dies. Fumiko-sama's strength is waning."_

 _"My wife is half-way through labor. It would be best to let her finish."_

 _Ma-kun whirled around, to stare incredulously at his birth father, who was carrying the first baby in his arms, with a furrowed brow. "She is going to bleed to death, at this rate…!"_

 _A weight dropped onto his shoulder. The boy looked up at a grim Asa._

 _"That is a risk that must be taken. It would be just as catastrophic, if we allowed the babe to lay within Fumiko for any longer. It would die—and it would be harder to take out a dead babe," she explained._

 _She was right. Fuck, of_ _ **course**_ _she was right. Asa Uchiha's been delivering babies for_ _ **years**_ _._

 _'Think! What information do you know about twins or complicated births, that could help…?' his mind whirled._

 _Nothing much. But…But maybe…_

 _"The best case is that there is a second um-bil-i-cal chord for the baby still in Kaa-chan's womb. Even if it is premature, that would raise the chances of the baby surviving."_

 _"Then, let us hope there is a second chord," Asa says grimly, steering him over to stand in his previous position._

 _"You should clean your hands. Just in case," he blurts out, holding out the towel in his hands. He motions to Momo-san to get him a second towel, as he went over to Fumiko's side, grasping her clammy hand._

 _"Just keep trying to push, Kaa-chan. You're going to be okay," he tells her, his voice a near plea._

 _"I will…try," the petite woman pants, giving a wan smile. "If I…I…I l-love you, my son."_

 _"I know," he chokes out, forcing himself to blink away tears. He bends over to give the woman a chaste kiss on the cheek, before he forces himself to leave her side._

* * *

Tajima mind whirls, as he holds his wife's hand. Twins were rare. Even rarer was the event of two twins surviving until childhood.

Rarer still that a mother survives the strain of birthing more than one child at once.

There is nothing else to do, but to have Fumiko go forth with birthing the second babe, however. There is nothing that can stop the forces of nature. Nothing that could stop fate.

What will come of this…It will simply happen.

And there is not a single thing he could do, to help.

* * *

 _The reincarnated young man feels useless. There's nothing he could really do, to help, right now._

 _Fumiko pushes, but she keeps bleeding. She shrieks in pain, but keeps on pushing anyways._

 _What the woman needs is a C-Section. But that would outright kill her and the baby. No one knows how to properly do the surgery, and they don't have anything to make it less painful._

 _Blood is everywhere._

 _It doesn't take long for the second baby to be born. But the umbilical chord was wrapped around its chest, nearly strangling the poor thing, before Asa finally managed to get it out._

 _"It is a girl," the midwife says. She disentangles the umbilical chord from the newborn, cutting it, and gently passing the child over to Ma-kun's shaky, awaiting arms._

 _Not-Madara's heart leaps into his throat, as he holds the baby girl. She's covered completely in blood. She's even tinier than the boy was._

 _And she's not breathing. She's opening her mouth and kicking, but she can't_ _ **breathe**_ _._

 _Thanking any deity he can think of that he's taken CPR lessons in his public education from his first life, Ma-kun lays the baby on his arm, knowing what to do. First, he starts to tap on her back. After doing this a few times, he sets her properly in his arms, face-up, and tries to puff air in her lungs._

 _Either they're clogged, or they're underdeveloped. He doesn't know the difference without any other information, but keeps trying to breathe air into her lungs anyways._

 _Using three fingers—because a child's are smaller and weaker than the recommended two for adults—he starts to do compressions. It doesn't seem to be working, but after he goes back down to give her mouth-to-mouth, she finally manages to make a sound._

 _It's a small, raspy little wisp of a sound. But then the baby girl gives a weak cough. And then she gives a rattling gasp of air._

 _She's still gaping like a fish, breathing irregularly, and her tiny form is cool. Almost as cold as death. Slow or deformed heart, along with the problem with her lungs, then._

 _But she's alive. Right now, the baby managed to_ _ **survive**_ _._

 _"A plastic con-tai-ner that can con-tract when pressed, and some form of tube attached to it. That should be able to make a quick, make-shift air pump for her," he mused, gently rocking her, eyes never leaving her tiny form._

 _She still seemed to struggle breathing, so he dipped his head to help share their breaths. When he pulled back again, the baby girl seemed to finally find a good rhythm._

 _"Something is wrong with her lungs and heart. She is much smaller than her brother. Even more premature than him," he told Asa, who was staring at him in awe. "But if she is monitored…If someone is with her, ready to provide assistance…She should survive."_

 _"M…Ma…kun."_

 _The reincarnate soul's attention was diverted over to Fumiko. She was pallid, shaking, and her lips were turning blue._

 _The realization hit him like a freight train: she was on her last dying breaths._

 _She'd lost too much blood. She had to go through two births, when previously, they'd only thought she was going to have one child. That strain on her— along with the excruciating, prolonged pain and the blood loss—was finally taking its toll._

 _And even if she had not tried birthing the baby girl, she would have died later from infection, of housing a dead fetus in her womb. Or from them trying to dissect her to take out the dead child._

 _He may have managed to save the baby, but the mother…_ _ **His**_ _mother…_

 _She was doomed to die._

 _She was_ _ **dying**_ _._

 _Ma-kun rushed over to her side, feeling himself quake. He didn't bother to hold back the tears, as he looked over her petite, pallid, weak form._

 _"Your baby girl is okay, Kaa-chan. She's gonna be fine, see?" he choked out through his tears. He neared the woman, managing to angle the baby girl, so that Fumiko could look at her._

 _Despite not being fully lucid, the woman managed to give a smile._

 _"Good…Love…you," she murmured with one last breath, before the brightness left her eyes, turning glassy and_ _ **dead**_ _._

 _The world feels like it stops for an eternity._

 _"K…Kaa-chan?" the query slips between his trembling lips, without his consent. It sounds weak, shaken, and utterly heartbroken._

 _Not-Madara maneuvers his newborn sister to free a hand. He uses it to grasp at one of Fumiko's._

 _It's still a bit warm and clammy. But it's cooling at an alarming rate, and it's completely limp._

 _Biting his lip until he draws blood, he uses his pointer and middle finger to try to find a pulse on her wrist. He knows it's futile. He_ _ **knows**_ _. But…_

 _Nothing. No beating. No warmth._

 _Fumiko Uchiha has died in childbirth. Just as he'd predicted._

 _He wish he hadn't been right._

 _His hand goes slack, and numb. Distantly, he realizes that Asa has taken the newborn girl from his grasp. He can't find it in himself to even_ _ **care**_ _._

 _His gaze is completely blurred with tears. His legs are unsteady, and give out. He grasps at his mother—his mother's_ _ **corpse**_ _, oh God, she was_ _ **dead**_ _and he couldn't—and a cry of pure, un-adultered grief and rage_ _ **rips**_ _from his throat._

 _Despite his tears, his gaze sharpens, and the detailed picture of a dead Fumiko Uchiha sears itself in his mind and behind his eyelids. Even when he slams his eyes shut and_ _ **screams**_ _, he can't get the image out of his head._

 _Distantly, he hears his newborn siblings join in with his cries, and he realizes that he's just unlocked his Sharingan._

 _But the price was a steep one._

* * *

It is the morning hours of February the tenth. Two new lives were born, in the form of a new son and daughter to the Clan Head.

(However, one life was also lost.)

With one last, bloodcurdling cry, his wife pushed out their first daughter from her womb. The midwife took the babe out—so small and fragile, covered in blood—handing it to the shaky First Son.

With careful motions, Madara cleans the babe carefully, just as he did so with his newborn brother. Even from his perch besides Fumiko, Tajima can see how pale the infant girl is, how she gapes like a fish taken out of its pond.

Tajima resigns himself to a dead daughter, along with a dead wife. However, his eldest son proceeds to metaphorically blow the minds of all present, by managing to stabilize the doomed babe, breathing life into her small body.

Madara holds the girl as if she is made of glass, dipping his head down to share breaths with her, until the babe is finally able to grasp the act of breathing.

" _Love…you_."

Tajima's wife dies shortly after childbirth. She was too frail, too thin, too fatigued. Having so many children one year after the other had taken its toll on the woman, just as how his eldest feared.

Asa Uchiha takes the frail daughter, and Madara proceeds to clutch at the fresh corpse of his mother, screaming in pain and fury. The sound pierces through Tajima's very soul, wrapping itself around his heart and **squeezing**.

"You killed her! I told you she'd die in childbirth! I **told** you! But you didn't **listen**!" the three-year-old screeches at Tajima, tears flowing like twin streams from his eyes.

His **red** eyes, the color of rubies, three black tadpoles swimming within his irises. They glare up at Tajima, full of hatred and hurt.

The _tomoe_ spin and spin and spin hypnotically.

Tajima rips his wide gaze away, feeling his heart hammer. Three-tomoe Sharingan…? Unlocked without needing to go into battle?

Unheard of.

There has also been no other clansmen in the history of the Uchiha Clan, who has unlocked their Sharingan at three years old. Having the most mature stage of their dojutsu at such an age was also impossible.

No, not impossible. Improbable, but very much possible, as his eldest son has shown.

Tajima's heart beats much too quickly in his chest, and his mouth is rough and tastes distinctly of sand. He looks down at the cooling body of his wife, at his eldest son clinging and sobbing into her chilled bosom, and starts to feel faint.

This day has been one surprise on top of another. Nothing has been making an iota of sense.

He must take control of this situation. He cannot falter, nor can he flounder.

He cannot show weakness. His clansmen are looking to him for instruction. They need him to be their leader and **lead**.

However, when Tajima became Clan Head, he distinctly did not imagine this to be part of the job description. Leading his clansmen into battle, fighting for his life, returning with the wounded and the dead, burying his men, consoling the widows; these are things he knows well, by now.

Having his wife die in his bedchambers, leaving two young children and two hopeless babes, and having one such child go hysterical over her subsequent passing? Such a situation should be part of a tragic story of old, **not** of his life.

What must he do now…?

Getting Madara to stop wailing like a babe, so that Tajima may be able to hear himself think, comes instantly to mind. Having Fumiko's body be taken to be cremated and readied for burial, before she rots in their _(—_ _ **his**_ _. She is dead, and his wife no more. It is_ _ **his**_ _—_ ) bed should also take precedence.

There are also the newborn babes to worry over…

"Momo-san," he calls, moving over to the young servant woman, who jolts and gives a squeak. "Please, take the new son and new daughter to their nursery."

"Y-Yes, Tajima-sama!" she exclaims, giving a low bow. The servant shuffles away, speaking in quick tongues to the wet-nurse who holds the male babe, and the midwife, who holds the female babe.

The Clan Head then orders the corpse, and sheets, to be removed from their— **his** — bed. Fumiko is to be readied for burial in the Head Family's plot of land, on the Uchiha graveyard grounds, in the next few days.

All the while, his thoughts are swimming. He must name his new children, order and create schedules for the nursemaids and servants to care for them, inform the clan of what has happened, arrange Fumiko's funeral, then **have** Fumiko's funeral, have his bedchambers cleansed, calm Madara down, train the boy in his newly unlocked Sharingan— amongst a growing list of things he must do in the passing weeks as Clan Head.

It all makes his head pound, the beginning stages of a headache.

The one thought that vies for his attention the most in his jumbled thoughts is the bewilderment over all that Madara has accomplished…Most specifically that _the most powerful of the stages of the Sharingan was unlocked by a three-year-old child._

Tajima watches with dull detachment, as the servants have to pry a hysterical Madara from his mother's corpse, whilst the young boy screams and screams and **screams** , as if he is being torn apart.

Tajima gives mercy upon his eldest son, _shunshin_ ing forwards and knocking him unconscious with a precise hit on the back of the boy's skull. The young one's eyes fall shut, hiding the crimson orbs with spinning tomoe.

The man feels that seeing his mother die before his very eyes is punishment enough for the boy. After all, the Sharingan can perfectly remember all events, while activated.

It is something Tajima would not want for any of his other clansmen. Especially not to one of his children.


	6. Watching and Tiring

So…I'm finally back with this story. *nervous laughter* Infinite Pinwheels is surprisingly popular, despite the relatively small amount of content compared to my main SI fic.

In other news, we finally have the names of the twins, and their current health status. Plus, Fumiko's funeral, and introductions of a few future plot points.

Canonically, Izuna's supposed to be the second eldest in the long line of siblings. Well, fuck that noise, I'm making my own timeline/interpretations. *puts on shades and backflips out of the room*

Replies to reviewers will be at the end of the chapter, for once, because of the sheer number of them.

* * *

Watching and Tiring

* * *

 _Not-Madara wakes blearily._

 _His face is half-damp. There is the stark taste of salt and bile in his mouth. Snot's smeared across his nose and lips, some parts slimy and others dried and cracking._

 _The reincarnated soul stares up at the ceiling blankly, before everything hits him at once._

 _Screaming, crying, blood, pain pain pain_ _ **pain**_ _—_ _ **death**_ _and cold and limp and ohgodwhy—helplessness, hopelessness—hecouldn'thelpherwhywhy_ _ **why**_ _—shouting and_ _ **screaming**_ _and a raw throat—crystal-clear vision of a dead woman—_ _ **rage**_ _and_ _ **hatred**_ _and_ _ **grief**_ _—a man staring him down—and then blissful darkness._

 _Tears leak from his burning, aching eyes. Ma-kun shuts them harshly, scrunching up his face, but the image of a dead Fumiko is burned into his eyelids. He opens them again, and sees the ghost of Tajima Uchiha standing over him, a weary and haunted look in his eyes._

 _Ma-kun blinks his eyes forcefully, but the image of Tajima does not want to leave._

 _The boy sits up, taking in his surroundings. He's…back in his room. He would recognize the familiar bookshelf stuffed with books, the low table in the corner with scrolls and inks and brushes._

 _So…After that traumatizing disaster, he was crying and screaming while clutching (a dead dead dead) Fumiko. And then he yelled some things at Tajima. Then…_

 _They tried to take Fumiko's body away. Since Ma-kun wasn't exactly at the right state of mind, he sort of…pitched a fit. A_ _ **big**_ _fit. Which led to him…Getting knocked out, most likely._

 _And now, he was back in his room…With Tajima hovering over him. That, or a very realistic illusion._

 _Maybe he's not even awake, and still sleeping, having a bizarre dream. He pinches himself, hoping to wake himself up, or dispel a genjutsu._

 _A pinprick of pain on his leg._

 _Nope._

 _Damn. Now he'll have to put up with more bullshit._

 _He turns to Tajima, who simply stands by the side of his bed._

 _"Otou-sama," Not-Madara croaks, grimacing when his voice comes out hoarse and cracked, and his throat flares up in pain._

 _Tajima stares down at him with unreadable eyes. "I have come to inform you, that you will not have lessons for the next three weeks."_

 _Ma-kun's body slumps in relief. He's not sure his mind and body could take any training after…after…_

 _His eyes burn, but he tries to blink the tears down. "I see," he responds tiredly._

 _"…Your mother's funeral will be held in two weeks," Tajima goes on, after a few seconds of silence. "We shall be having important visitors—allies of our clan—that will pay their respects, so be on your best behavior."_

 _"Hai, Otou-sama," he responds dully, giving a sniff. He raises a hand to wipe his nose on his sleeve, but aborts the motion. No need to make the man sneer at him for not having perfect poise and manners. Not when he'll likely blow his fuse, or fall into another crying fit, or both._

 _The Clan Head gives a curt nod, and makes his way to the door. Oddly enough, though, Tajima pauses._

 _Ma-kun watches his second life's father wearily. The man steps back from the exit, and turns his body to half-face the three-year-old._

 _"When you have cleaned yourself, report to the midwife. The nursemaids have been having trouble with caring for the girl."_

 _And then, with a dramatic billow of his robes, Tajima Uchiha left Not-Madara's room._

 _The reincarnated soul stared wide-eyed at where the man had last stood._

 _This…was surprising, on multiple accounts._

 _The fact that Tajima himself came to give Ma-kun news, instead of just sending a servant…The fact that he's giving the boy almost a month off of training…The fact that he's actually allowing—no, recommending—Ma-kun to go and care for his siblings, realizing his medical advancement and value…_

 _The three-year-old flopped onto his back, staring up at his plain ceiling, his mind a confused mess._

 _Despite his efforts and wishes, his second life's mother died in childbirth, as he feared…He gained twin newborn siblings, both who were premature… His baby sister almost died right out of the womb, but he managed to save her…He unlocked his Sharingan from the intensely stressful and emotional event of watching his mother die before his very eyes…_

 _Raising up a shaky hand, Not-Madara touched the edges of his eyes. The skin was pinched and slick with fresh, salty tears._

 _This…This wasn't how things were supposed to go._ _ **All**_ _of this. Fumiko wasn't supposed to die. And there sure as hell hadn't been a sister, among the five or so brothers Canon Madara had. And…_

 _And Madara hadn't unlocked the Sharingan so early._

 _Letting his hand go limp and flop onto his bedcovers, Ma-kun wondered if these changes were good, or if they would make things worse._

 _He closed his eyes (dead dead dead red pale black clarity tears hurt) breathing in and out slowly. He dug his heels against his eyelids, a sob forcing its way past his mangled throat._

 _Ma-kun laid there, and cried. He's not sure how long he did so, but it couldn't have been longer than ten or so minutes. He was already rather tired from today's—yesterday's?—traumatizing debacle._

 _Shakily breathing in and out, he wiped his tears, and stared up at his ceiling once more._

 _He could cry more later. Right now…Right now, he had to try and keep his baby siblings alive._

 _With trembling limbs, the boy stumbled out of bed, going over to his closet to pick out a fresh shirt and pants to wear. After changing, he went to the nearest bathroom to clean his face, stepping onto the convenient step stool. The boy stared into the small mirror that hung over the basin that acted as the sink._

 _Haunted eyes looked back towards him. For one moment—one completely wild, insane moment—he wondered if…If he unlocked the Mangekyou Sharingan or not._

 _Shameful, with a rapidly beating heart and a squirming in his stomach, Ma-kun ripped his gaze away from the mirror, as if burned._

 _He's not sure…if it would be better or worse; confirming his thoughts or staying ignorant._

 _"Later. I'll deal with that later," Not-Madara murmured under his breath, hands clenched tightly on the smooth basin of the sink._

 _With more strength than he felt he had, the boy pushed himself away from the sink, and left, striding towards the nursery._

* * *

Momo Uchiha paced in a corner of the Clan Head's nursery, wringing her hands.

The Honorable Daughter had been giving all the servants trouble. They did not know how to deal with a babe who was all but on death's door.

The midwife and her assistants most certainly had the experience to provide a helping hand— but not even **they** had the knowledge that Young Master Madara possessed, on how to care for the girl.

Not to mention, all the poor boy has been through in the last twenty-four hours had no doubt caused him to be fatigued…So, they will have no help from him. And without his help, the Honorable Daughter will not live past two days, and the Head family will have to make another grave.

Things were looking rather bleak.

At the very least, they have managed to move Byakuya-sama to another room for his dwelling, so that the panic would not disturb the toddling young one.

"I-I will fetch us some tea," Momo murmured to her fellow servants, giving a wan smile to the women and weak men. The woman shuffled her way to the door—before it slid open on its own.

"Young Master!" Momo squeaked, instantly stepping to the side, to allow the boy through. She quickly gave a bow to the boy thirteen years her junior.

"Hello, Momo-san," the Honorable Son nods at her, before he strides further into the nursery with quick, lithe steps. His attention is riveted to the additional crib covered in pink silks.

"What is imouto's status?" he asks, looking around the room, before his gaze lands on Asa-obaa-sama's tired perch in a seat on the small couch in the room.

"She still has trouble breathing," croaked the old woman, before waving a hand at one of her assistants. "Dear, tell Ma-kun the rest."

"Y-Yes, shishou," the young girl squeaks, bowing to the midwife, before turning and giving a bow to the impatient-looking boy. "When the Honorable Daughter has been gasping for breath, we have tried to give her breaths through our mouths, as you have done. I-It seemed to stabilize her, but we are unsure what to do next."

The three-year-old gives a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Remind me to teach you all proper CPR, later. Thank you for your hard work, while I was…out of commission."

The boy imperiously walks over, taking a seat next to the midwife. "Momo-san, please fetch me my imouto."

"Yes, Young Master," Momo replies demurely, instantly going to the crib, gently picking up the babe, and bringing her to the boy.

With the Honorable Daughter safe in his arms, Madara-sama begins to calmly and thoroughly check the babe's body. Feeling her temperature, checking the pulse, putting his ear to her chest, patting the babe's back—all is if he is going through a checklist.

"Hmmm, I see. Still has that lung and heart problem," he mused. "Asa-obaa-sama, can your assistants build something for me? Imouto will be in need of an air pump."

The old woman's brows rise to her hairline. "And how will my assistants be able to construe this 'air pump' that you will need, Ma-kun?"

"Was no one listening to me yesterday?" the boy asks, with no real heat; more of a resigned bemusement. "A plastic container that can contract when pressed, attached to some form of tube, and a mouth-piece attached to the tube.

You put pres-sure on the container, and it makes the air rush down the tube, into the mouth of the patient. Without pressure, the container expands, sucking the air back into it. This helps the patient breath in and out, if you do it at a normal rhy-thm."

Those in the room stare with gaping mouths at the boy. Momo has known that Madara-sama was a genius, and rather taken with his medical lessons, for a lengthy enough time. However, for the others, it is one thing to know from hearsay, and another thing entirely to actually have the boy give a thorough explanation and show it.

"Well?" Asa-obaa-sama asks, amusement and exasperation in her tone, as she looks to her assistants. "You heard the Honorable Son."

Her two assistants bow to their teacher, stuttering, before they flee from the room to follow their orders.

"When I am here, in the nursery, I will look after my baby siblings myself. How-e-ver, when I am not, then the wet-nurse and nursemaids will work the air pump on them, when they have trouble breathing."

"Young Izuna has not had much trouble, when compared to the Honorable Daughter," Asa-obaa-sama says, gently smoothing out the three-year-old's hair in a rather maternal movement.

The boy stared at the midwife in a few silent moments, before he tentatively spoke. "I…Izuna?" Madara-sama asked faintly.

The midwife nodded. "Yes, Tajima-sama had given him a name, when the babes were put to the nursery."

Young Madara-sama's dark eyes seem to glaze over, a small title of his lips showing a ghost of a smile. "And…And Imouto?"

The others in the room give each other uncomfortable glances. Momo cannot help but feel pity when she gazes at the Honorable Son.

The midwife frowns down at the boy. "Honorable Daughter has not been given a name. The babe is in too much risk—"

Madara-sama gives a choked, keening sputter. "W- **What**?"

"When a babe seems too week to survive, the parents—oft than not—wait for the babe to gain strength. There is no use naming something, when it will be buried within the month," the midwife explains in a soothing tone.

The look on the young boy's face is one of horror, tinged with outrage. "But…But she is alive right now! It's just—She deserves a **name** , at the very least!" he crows, bringing the female babe closer to his chest and shying away from the midwife. As if he is trying to protect the Honorable Daughter from the harsh words and reality.

"Please understand, Ma-kun," Asa-obaa-sama says tiredly. "It is just how things are done…Speak to your father, after a week passes, over your young sister's name."

The boy's mouth turns into a thin line. "I will," he replies curtly, voice hard and resolute.

Then, the babe coughs in his arms, and the boy instantly turns his attention to his arms, cooing and soothing the Honorable Daughter. When a minute passes, and the babe seems to be unable to breath, the boy goes through the motions he did just after the Honorable Daughter was born—tap her on the back, sharing breaths with her, and poking three pudgy fingers on her chest in quick intervals.

All the servants hold their own breaths, letting them out in relief when the babe coughs and breaths freely once more.

Madara-sama's expression darkens. "I hope your assistants are able to make the air pump swiftly, Asa-obaa-sama."

* * *

 _Not-Madara spends hours upon hours straight, hovering next to his newborn siblings' cribs. Performing CPR when his little sister needs it._

 _It takes Asa's assistants five or so hours to cobble up the makeshift air pump he wanted. It was some plastic container that used to carry water, with some form of piping melded to it, and an extra lip from a different container attached to the end._

 _The container didn't contract nearly as much as he'd wanted, but he tested it out on himself, and considered it adequate enough. It was cumbersome and awkward, but since respirators in general weren't A Thing yet, he would take anything he could get._

 _Ma-kun teaches Asa, her assistants, the wet-nurse, and the nursemaids on how to use the air pump. Then, he tries to teach them how to do CPR through demonstration, whenever his sister's breathing acts up._

 _It's much harder to teach others without those special practice dummies that he's used to, though, so he ends up putting the lessons on hold for some time in the future. He's_ _ **not**_ _going to let them practice on live people, when they don't know what the hell they're supposed to be doing; that would do more harm than good._

 _Apparently, CPR isn't a formal practice. Since the only contact the Uchiha have with water is smaller bodies in ponds, lakes, or rivers, there haven't been many cases of drowning. They know that you have to try and get water out of people, if they swallowed any or been under too long, and that patting them on the back helps. But that's about it._

 _No_ _ **wonder**_ _they all looked at him in awe, when he managed to save his little sister's life. Like what he did was a miracle._

 _How people have survived this long in this world, he'll never know._

 _He's just going to assume (and hope) that other clans and people that live close to large bodies of water know how to do CPR. Or else, he's going to lose hope in humanity altogether, and let nature take its course._

 _He almost lost hope in humanity altogether, when it was revealed that his little sister wasn't even given a_ _ **name**_ _._

 _He could understand the logic and customs—really, he could. Infant mortality was high. Death was just another part of this world. If you had a baby that was premature and looked like it couldn't breathe properly, you'd be resigned to them dying quickly, and burying them in a shoe box. That's how some things worked._

 _But for some reason, it just…It just_ _ **offended**_ _him, that Tajima couldn't even be bothered to name his daughter— one of the last living reminders of Fumiko, his wife. The baby girl gained Fumiko's brown hair and pallid complexion. (Although, her paleness_ _ **could**_ _be from the heart complications…)_

 _So, before the first day of taking care of his siblings ended, Ma-kun give her one._

 _"Fumi…Fumina. Do you think that is a good name for her?" he asks Momo-san idly. The poor servant jolted in surprise, staring at him._

 _"I…I-It is a beautiful name, Young Master," Momo says softly, after biting her lip. "I-Is it…"_

 _Not-Madara gives her a sad smile. "Yes. Named after my mother, but with a suffix to match her twin brother."_

 _"That is… very kind of you, Young Master," she responds in a wobbly voice, tears budding in her eyes._

 _"Thank you…I …I just want to have something good to remember Kaa-chan by," he admits haltingly, voice breaking, feeling bitterness and a familiar hurt in his chest._

 _He allows Momo to pull him into a hug, trying to fight down the burning in his eyes. He only half-succeeds; a few tears slip out._

 _Momo holds him and coos soothing things into his ear, until he falls into a dreamless sleep._

* * *

Tajima finally finds room to breathe properly, after days of endless activity.

Planning the funeral of his wife, amongst other things, has been very taxing on him. His sleep is plagued and heavy, forcing him to slumber for three to four hours. From dawn until dusk, he moves around the Uchiha Clan compound, planning and ordering clansmen and giving thanks for condolences.

It is not until a week has passed, that the Clan Head finds time to visit his newborn children.

It is of little surprise that he finds his eldest sitting vigil in the nursery. One of the servants had worriedly informed him three days prior, that Madara sleeps and eats in the room, and leaves only to go to the bathroom.

Tajima supposes that it is his fault, for giving the boy three weeks off, and then telling him to help Asa-obaa-sama with caring for the babes. Madara is so passionate, bullheaded, and soft, that there realistically would be no other outcome.

The thought of making Madara train harder to overcome this weakness comes to the man's mind. And then he promptly feels weary.

He does not want to fight with the boy. Not now.

Halting outside the door of the nursery, Tajima steels himself, before entering.

The man's keen eyes swiftly sweep across the interior of the room, before falling upon his eldest. Madara is sitting on the couch, rocking a bundle in his arms.

The wet-nurse and nursemaids instantly bow lowly and greet Tajima, when he steps into the room. Without a second glance to them, the Clan Head strides to his first son.

"Hello, Otou-sama," Madara says, dipping his head in greeting, unable to bow from his current position. The boy's skin is pale, and there are deep bags under his eyes, yet a steely resolve that tells Tajima that despite being fatigued, Madara will keep caring for the babes every hour of the day.

"Good day," the man replies blandly, looking pointedly down at the bundle in the boy's arms.

"Meet Fumina, your daughter."

The world freezes. Tajima stares. Then, his body gives a twitch, as he forces himself to not lash out—both physically and verbally.

Irritation turns into a very low level of Killing Intent. Madara leans back into the cushions of the couch, a slight cringe, but keeps meeting his gaze.

"You **named** it?" he asks through gritted teeth.

There is a tense pause, before the boy scowls up at him. " _'It'_ is my imouto— and yes, I named **her** , since you did not give her one."

Tajima lets out a slow exhale through his nose, trying to keep his temper in check. It is successful enough that his anger is quickly swallowed by weariness and grief so overwhelming, that he must close his eyes.

"Fumina," he murmurs, bringing a hand up to rub at his temples. He lets out sigh, praying for patience, as his heart seems to drop down into his stomach.

"Madara," he begins, as he stares deep into his son's eyes. "What if the babe dies?"

The boy's face contorts into that of offense. "She is **not** —"

"What. If. She. Dies?" he queries, emphasizing each word. Madara falls silent.

"She was born weak. Naming her has formed an attachment, a connection. Burying the babe would bring up more negative connotations, if she is named. If she has an **identity** ," Tajima explains slowly, voice low, and gives a breath that could be considered a sigh. "I do not want you to go through that, my son."

Tentatively, he reaches out, and places a hand on his son's head. Comforting others is not a good skill that he has, and paternal instincts have fled him, replaced by a stressed leader of a shinobi Clan.

But even then…He does not want to see the inevitable heartbreak in Madara, if the female babe ( _his daughter, a small voice in his heart whispers_ ) dies. Madara, so full of hope, who named the girl— after their **mother**. After Fumiko.

The sentimentality and hope will shatter and come crumbling down, when the babe doesn't survive. It will affect his son greatly, especially if it were to happen so soon after Fumiko…

"I can't just abandon her," the boy whispers. Madara holds the babe closer to his chest, a determined set to his small shoulders, staring at the Clan Head squarely. "You may have given up on Fumina, but **I** won't. I will not rest, until she becomes strong enough to survive. And by then, you will **have** to recog-nize her as your daughter."

Tajima retracts his hand, mouth a tight line. He tries very, **very** hard to push down the urge to take the boy's shoulders in his hands, and **shake** him until he sees reason.

An irritated sigh passes the man's lips. He has been sighing rather frequently, since stepping into the nursery. He supposes the mounting stress, and Madara's nature in breaking rules and traditions, has worn down his patience.

"I warned you," he says, voice dark and many shades of fatigue. "However, I will allow her to keep the name Fumina that you have bestowed upon her, as I have never had plans to have a daughter."

With one final moment to take in the determined visage of his three-year-old son, Tajima turns on his heel, and leaves the nursery.

* * *

 _He's constantly vigilant, and it's wearing down on his mind and body._

 _Fumina and Izuna—his baby siblings—they aren't in the clear yet. They may never be, actually. They could live with the consequences of their premature births for the rest of their (most likely short) lives._

 _He will still try, though. That's all that Ma-kun can do._

 _He takes full advantage of his hiatus from training. And seemingly so does Asa-obaa-sama. That crazy old woman drills him a lot about his CPR methods, and his theories, whenever she isn't busy healing the others in the compound._

 _She easily manages to take his mind off of things, off of the overwhelming dread that wants to crush him. He…He really appreciates it._

 _There is still the weight of a damned continent weighing down on his shoulders, but with that old crone looking out for him, it…It feels less._

 _Two weeks come and go. And all too soon, the day of Fumiko's funeral comes._

 _Ma-kun wakes groggily in the nursery by a servant. He isn't able to wave the young man away, who proceeds to change him into a formal, black kimono._

 _The reincarnated soul forgets to be embarrassed or exasperated from the special treatment. All he feels is a bone-deep tiredness and grief within his absurdly small body._

 _As he's escorted out of the room, he pauses at the doorway, looking back longingly at his baby siblings. They will only have the servants and nursemaid to look after them; even Asa-obaa-sama and her assistants will be going to the funeral._

 _Momo-san gently squeezes his shoulder, and he looks back up at her wan smile, giving her a nod, and leaving the room proper._

 _It's a procession down the hall. He's surrounded by an entourage of servants, as they go down to Tajima's office._

 _The man is exiting, just as they stop in front of his door. He's in a black kimono fit for his station of Clan Head, Uchiha fan proudly embezzled on the back, a proper little black hat perched on his half-shaved head. It would be comical, if not for the occasion._

 _The man nods at them, stepping into the entourage next to his son. Ma-kun ignores him, gaze fixed vaguely to the middle-distance, as they walk through the halls._

 _They exit the Head Clan House to the courtyard. The sky is overcast, tingeing everything a light grey. Not dark enough for it to start raining, but enough to block much of the sun's rays._

 _Feeling sluggish, he blinks, realizing something._

 _"Where is Byakuya-otouto?" he asks to the general entourage._

 _It's a bit of a surprise, that his father answers. "In his room. He is too young to attend such a ceremony."_

 _"Ah," Ma-kun replies dully._

 _It doesn't particularly feel fair, to exclude the toddler like that. Fumiko was his mother; he deserves to be a part of her funeral._

 _However…Byakuya would not remember Fumiko much. It would be needlessly cruel to make him attend. And he wouldn't really understand the weight of things, the need for the ceremony, anyways._

 _Not-Madara is just too tired to fight this decision. He'll let it go._

 _…Let it gooo, let it gooo…_

 _'God damn it, me. This is not the time for this,' he chastises himself, in his mind._

 _The spark of nostalgia and playfulness leaves as quickly as it came, leaving Ma-kun to feel dull once more._

 _Working on autopilot, he follows his entourage, while Tajima breaks away to speak to others. Talking to important people, acting modest, gaining condolences. The usual, no doubt._

 _"…ung Master…Young Master."_

 _Idly, the three-year-old turns his attention to the person calling for him. It's Momo-san whispering to him, trying to rouse his attention. The young woman gestures over at something, and Ma-kun follows the direction with his eyes._

 _Oh. People are right there. Trying to talk to him._

 _"Forgive me," he murmurs quietly, without much inflection. He has no energy to waste on playing the good little genius heir, on being a proper host of his station. He only has the hollowness that's a gaping maw, and maybe just a little bit of fucks that will morph into tears. That's it._

 _"As I was saying—It's quite the tragedy!" said the fat nobleman in front if him. He dabbed his beady eyes with the edge of a fancifully embroidered handkerchief. No doubt, made of silk and golden thread._

 _Ma-kun gave a small hum of affirmation. The nobleman looked vaguely familiar. Has he seen him somewhere, or…?_

 _"Yes, yes. Fumiko was my dear cousin, did you know? Quite the lovely lady, she was," the man went on._

 _"Oh," the boy replied, feeling vaguely interested. "What a co-in-ci-dence."_

 _Actually, he could see the similarities this nobleman shared with this life's mother. The exact same shade of light brown hair, and kind eyes the color of warm honey scotch._

 _"Yes, a mighty coincidence—say, have you met my daughter, Aiko?" the fat nobleman said, voice gaining an excited quality. He gestured to his daughter, a little girl with big eyes and sandy hair, dressed in fine silks. The girl had been standing next to him, and the two were flanked by either bodyguards, or servants. Or both. Maybe both._

 _"Hajimemashite," Not-Madara stated, putting the minimal amount of politeness needed in the address. His bow was more a small dip of the upper body, almost as if he was swaying in place, than a proper one for nobility._

 _"I have brought you dango, Madara-kun," the girl said, voice sweet and demure. "It seems to be something you really like, yes?"_

 _The noble daughter took a package from one of her servants, and held it out to Ma-kun, who simply stared blankly at it. Then, the dots connected._

 _Oh. This nobleman had been at his birthday party. And this girl was his daughter, who had been there as well, and eaten dango with him._

 _Well then._

 _He can't be rude_ _ **now**_ _. Also, it's free dango— even though it feels like a bribe, or as if they're buttering him up to be in his good favor._

 _"We've also brought flowers for your mother, of course—but having a little something sweet also helps to ease the pain," the nobleman said, his voice irritatingly chipper for a funeral._

 _"…Thank you very much," Ma-kun replied softly, nodding his head and taking the package from the little girl, who beamed._

 _"Well, we'll best be off, and let the others get their turn to chat with you," the fat man said, waving his ring-covered fingers and leading his daughter away._

 _The reincarnated soul sighed, as many others flocked to him to give their condolences, or ask for his baby sibling's health. It became…tedious. And all of them seemed to blend together, one after the other._

 _He also kept getting gifts, that he had to pass off to his servants, after the number was too much for him to carry on his own._

 _It…angered him. It's as if these people didn't know how to properly express their sorrow, so they showered him in things, like some spoiled prince. Like they couldn't properly keep up the pretense of acting like this was a funeral._

 _The entire ordeal was…needlessly large. There were a lot of people. Almost the entire Uchiha Clan, plus the nobles and important people that held ties with the Uchiha, and other visitors._

 _They were in the portion of the graveyard where the close family of the Clan Heads were buried. The area had wooden poles, topped with black silks of mourning. Priests held prayer beads and purifying instruments, there to oversee the ceremony._

 _There was a finely carved casket for Fumiko, covered by flowers from the visitors that bore them as gifts and blessings and tribute. A painted picture in a frame was placed in the middle of the casket, a pretty little representation of Fumiko Uchiha when she was happy and whole, and even younger than she was._

 _Being buried was a luxury. Especially when so many people died during these dangerous times. Only the most important people were buried in coffins, holding a special ceremony and a gravestone and a slot in a cemetery._

 _Most bodies were left to rot, or cremated. Since the Uchiha's Clan's main chakra affinity was fire, cremating the bodies was easy. Ashes made of slain or fallen clan members was the norm, a quick and respectful way to give the clan member a passing from the world into the spirit realm._

 _If they'd made her into ashes, at least there wouldn't be such a large debacle made of it. At least there wouldn't be so many people here with empty words and gifts. It would be more…Real? Meaningful? Something along those lines._

 _Here, he was surrounded by flocks of people, yet felt utterly alone. He felt hollow and raw and tired and weak. He_ _ **hurt**_ _, and he just didn't want to_ _ **be**_ _here._

 _It was too much. Too much, too much, too much._

 _When the priests finally began to sing their prayers and do their dances, it all hit him at once, piercing through him like a sword to the heart._

 _Madara Uchiha broke down crying, and didn't stop._

 _He watched with blurry red eyes, as his mother's casket was lowered into the grave. His entire body heaved and quaked, and he didn't_ _ **care**_ _if people were watching him, scrutinizing him. He didn't_ _ **care**_ _if it wasn't proper for someone of his status._

 _He'd lost a mother, when he had never lost anyone close to him was stuck in a body that was three years old. He was in a world full of death and blood and ninja magic bullshit._

 _Fuck it all, he deserved to cry and grieve._

 _He didn't care anymore._

* * *

Tajima gave the boy a week after the funeral, to get all the crying out of his system. On the eight day, the man entered the nursery—the boy's new abode—and gave him a new training schedule.

Madara was playing a game with Byakuya, poking the weak points of the two-year-old's body and naming each spot. The light jabs caused the smaller boy to giggle, and he tried to bat the quick fingers away.

For a moment, Tajima did not see his two sons. Instead, he saw a younger version of himself, playing with his older brother.

A hard blink later, and the ghosts of his past fled. Madara turned his sights to the man, the smile on his face falling like leaves during winter; it simply left a barren face.

"Good morning, Otou-sama," Madara said, voice cool.

"G'mornin', Otou-sama!" Byakuya chirped, face open and innocent.

Tajima dipped his head to his sons, before turning his gaze to Madara.

"You will return to your lessons. In the mornings, we will do physical conditioning. The evenings will be for history, reading, calligraphy, and your medical lessons. Evenings, you will be taught how to use your Sharingan."

Tajima had been ready for some form of disrespectful retort. Perhaps the start of a debate. Even a mulish look.

The man did not expect the tired look, which only held a spark of interest within its depths.

"Lessons on the Sharingan…? I did not think there was much to learn," Madara replied idly, threading his hand through the small wisps of Byakuya's hair.

"Did you, now…?" he responded, prodding his son to give his reasoning through an expectant look.

"The Sharingan is ca-pa-ble of copying any jutsu that it sees. It has a perfect memory. It can break any genjutsu. It can predict the movements of o-ppo-nents," Madara started, raising one finger for each point, until Byakuya took hold of his hand, causing the older boy's mouth to tinge with vague amusement. "Using it too much causes strain. It can have from one to three tomoe. It unlocks from great stress or trauma. Use them too much, and they bleed."

Tajima silently stared at the young boy, who was blinking up at the man with fatigue.

"…Then you will not be in those lessons for long. You seem to have a very good grasp of the details pertaining to our dojutsu," he decided with a resolute nod.

"Hai, Otou-sama."

"I wanna Charigan!" Byakuya exclaimed suddenly, looking between Madara and Tajima.

"Sha-rin-gan, otouto," Madara replied slowly, patient and fond.

"Yes. That."

"You will get the Sharingan one day, Byakuya. Just not yet," Tajima replied. He paused, before extending his arms forwards. "Come. It is time for your word lessons."

His eldest held a small frown on his face—a spark of his former countenance—but eventually passed the two-year-old over to the father.

"O-kay, Otou-sama!" Byakuya said, when Tajima finally arranged the boy in his arms in a proper hold, still unused to holding his children for any length of time. "Bye-bye, onii-chan!"

Madara raised a hand, waving it slightly. "Bye, otouto."

Tajima frowned at how laconic and dull his heir seemed, toting his second son out of the room.

Perhaps he will have more interest and energy, during training. If not…It will be a problem.

* * *

 _His heart felt heavy. But with a new routine imposed on him, Ma-kun…Well, he actually felt better, in an odd way._

 _A routine was a safety net. It gave him a reason to put energy into activities. To make him live each day._

 _His younger siblings—they did this as well. They had to be cared for, cherished, protected. They took up much of his attention and energy, and they were a genuine joy to watch over._

 _But, really, they could only do so much. He could only rely on them as a means to live, before it became unhealthy. Before it became an obsession. A crutch._

 _He had to keep going on. He had to live for_ _ **himself**_ _._

 _And, oddly enough, Tajima imposing lessons and a schedule on him helped do just that._

 _Not-Madara had much more free time in his schedule than before, of course. With Fumiko…dead, Tajima didn't have to worry about him sneaking off to visit her. And in this instance, it was much better to have Ma-kun watch other his siblings, so it would be a moot point to make him too busy to see them, anyways._

 _This free time was well used, as well. After a few weeks in the Sharingan lessons with one of his other clansmen, Ma-kun learned everything he really needed to know about his kekkei genkai._

 _The 'future' knowledge from the manga most definitely helped in that regard, as well._

 _Ma-kun wrote down everything he knew about the Sharingan, both in English and Japanese. Then, with a small pulse of chakra to the pathways in his eyes, he activated his Sharingan, and instantly memorized everything. One careful application of a beginner's fire chakra exercise, and the information in English was turned to ashes._

 _This was the start of a long project that would no doubt span multiple years._

 _It was important to remember information about his clan and the Naruto universe. Not-Madara's memories from his past life would no doubt deteriorate over time—especially considering that they were memories that were not even properly stored within his mind. Simply a byproduct of the merging of souls, or some other cosmic bullshit accident that came through reincarnation._

 _He didn't know the full capabilities of the Sharingan—how much eye strain they truly caused, the rate of which the health or eyes of the subject deteriorated, how much brain capacity a user truly had or how much information they could potentially store—he didn't know all those fiddly details. But he had theories, and he had time to figure these things out, one piece of the story at a time._

 _The next target of his to memorize with his eyes would be the medical knowledge he already gave Asa-obaa-sama. Then after that, a guide on English, so he wouldn't forget his first language, the language in which he would write all his groundbreaking 'future' information. A natural cipher, perfect to keep his secrets whole; not even a Yamanaka would understand the seemingly foreign babble in his memories, if they tried to pry into his mind._

 _Looking down at the scroll holding his knowledge on the Sharingan with dark eyes and thin lips, Ma-kun rolled up the scroll, and hid it under a loose floorboard in his closet._

 _If his family ever unlocked the Mangekyou…If he ever needed to teach his family, to help them understand their kekkei genkai properly…There would be a distinct need for that scroll._

 _He hoped there_ _ **wouldn't**_ _, but considering just how messed up this world and his clan was, well…There was no guarantee._

* * *

Review Replies:

Reply to _Guest_ on the mangekyou : Thank you for liking the fic! I've had it planned from the start that Madara would get the Mangekyou Sharingan. Infinite mangekyou is still up in the air. Maybe he'll figure out some medic jutsu to help with eyes; that seems like a problem he'd have to figure out.

Reply to _Blacksun_ : Since I've given you so many emotions, I suppose I've done my job right? And wow, that's really brutal _—_ total content for Tsukiyomi right there. Most Clan Heads have to be sociopaths in the Warring States Era; everyone's at war with one another, and people die every day. It's a brutal time to live in.

Not-Madara is essentially what most normal people would be like, when put in this world and situation. Sure, it's more based on my feelings, but the beauty of this story is that many sympathetic people can put themselves in Ma-kun's shoes.

Your praise is really high! Damn, it's making me blush. I'm honored that you like this story and my writing so much. I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to get a book published, but if I ever do, I suppose I now know that I have a fanbase?

Reply to _greymouser_ : Thank you for liking it so much! Chapter 5 was indeed very emotional, which is what I'd planned. Tajima will probably get his just deserts by Ma-kun in the future. ( **Far** in the future, considering how long it takes for me to update and move along the plot.)

Reply to awww yisssss _Guest_ : That's the thing with this fic. From Ma-kun's perspective, Tajima is a huge dick. But from his own reflections, Tajima's a stressed dude who's got a lot of shit on his plate. It teeter-totters. And thank you for liking this story!

Reply to _Ka_ : Good. I've done my job right. More tears for for me to drink Imeanwhat


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